


how to free your merman

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:55:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 87,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8347819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: Makoto is a merman who was caught by humans and taken from the ocean to become an exhibit at an aquarium. Haru is a human who visits Makoto’s exhibit and doesn't understand what he's feeling or why he's feeling it. There’s also stuff with Nagisa and Rei because there’s always stuff with Nagisa and Rei, and also Rin and Sousuke and Ai hang around and attempt to move the plot along. You know. As they tend to do.If you recognize my username and/or the name/description of this fic, I do some probably necessary explaining in the notes at the end of the first chapter. Enjoy, homeslices!





	1. Chapter 1

_The thing about drowning is that it’s not immediate._

_It’s gradual, a bit like falling in love, some might say, not that Haru knows anything about that._

_It starts out pleasantly, just like swimming, water over every inch of skin, water becoming a part of the body it encompasses. The cool of the water becomes warm, a sort of comfort, a bed cushioning all over._

_When you drown, you don’t know it’s happening at first. You think you’re swimming. You think you’re in control, but when you realize you’re not, there’s panic, the sharp intake of what should be breath but instead is ice and iron and stabs of knives down the windpipe and into the lungs, hands squeezing organs, seizing the body and hauling it like a wind does leaves – carelessly, ruthlessly._

_The thing about drowning is there’s nothing you can do about it – once it starts, it will not stop, it will not stop, it cannot stop._

*

“Happy birthday, Haru!” Nagisa shouts, and Haru turns around.

            “No, Haru, wait, come on,” Rin objects, hand on Haru’s arm and pulling him away from his front door, which Haru is already regretting walking out of.

            “I’m tired,” Haru says, but Rin doesn’t let go of his arm, and continues pulling him to the elevator.

            “It’s not even noon. Did you eat a complete breakfast, Haru?” Nagisa asks, as always, too close, and Haru leans away from him because his breath reeks of something too sweet.

            _Captain Crunch Berries_ , Haru thinks.

            “Your breath smells,” he replies, but, of course, Nagisa just laughs.

            “I bet you just had mackerel for breakfast. That’s not a complete breakfast, you know, and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Don’t you want to grow up strong and healthy?” Nagisa jabbers, his words filling up the elevator, and Haru feels claustrophobic, shrugs out of Rin’s grasp and leans against the side of the elevator away from his friends.

            “Nagisa, shut up, he’s already grown, and he’s stronger than you’ll ever be,” Rin snaps.

            Predictably, Nagisa pouts – audibly, of course. “Rin! That’s so mean! Oh, hey, that kinda rhymed!”

            “I think I’ll go back up,” Haru says mildly, as the elevator arrives on the bottom floor of his apartment building.

            “Nanase, stop complaining. Just let us give you your freaking birthday surprise, and then you can sulk in peace and drown yourself in your bathtub or whatever the hell you were doing,” Rin mutters, shuttling Haru out of the elevator, and Haru sighs in reluctant agreement.

            He might as well just get it over with – it being whatever surprise his friends have been planning with a secretive exuberance that has really been getting on his nerves in the past week.

            “Just tell me where we’re going. A pool?”

            “It’s not a pool,” Rin says, rather quickly, shoving Nagisa as he says it.

            Haru stares at Nagisa, knowing he’s the weakest link and will be easiest to break. “Just give me a hint, Nagisa,” he says, trying to add a smile to complete the nice-act, but it’s too much effort, and he settles with glaring.

            “Haru, don’t give me such a scary look! I promised Rin I’d keep it a secret, don’t make me break my promise, please, Haru, please don’t make me!”

            Haru looks away, giving up, and it’s just as well, as Nagisa is distracted by the appearance of Rei, who stands by the entrance of the apartment building rubbing at his eyes.

            “Maybe you shouldn’t drive,” Rin says, when they catch up to him.

            Rei looks up sharply, and Haru can’t help but stare. He still isn’t used to Rei’s new look. It just seems _wrong._

            “I am perfectly capable of driving,” Rei replies, though Haru is sure he isn’t the only one to notice his hesitation.

            “Just give up on the contacts, Rei, all they do is irritate you. What was wrong with glasses?”

            “The contacts do not irritate me,” Rei argues, but it’s futile, as his eyes are red from all his rubbing, and no stiffly delivered lie could hide that.

            “I think Rei is cute without glasses,” Nagisa coos, unhelpfully, and Rin rolls his eyes at Haru, who merely shrugs back.

            They both know the real reason Rei is on this useless contacts kick, and there’s nothing that can be done. Rin told Haru to tell Rei that Nagisa thinks he’s cute _with or without_ glasses, but Haru has no desire to get into their personal business, and can’t figure out why Rin doesn’t just tell Rei himself.

            Rin’s excuse was some bullshit about Haru having been the one to introduce the two of them in the first place, making them somehow his responsibility, but that makes no sense seeing as it was Nagisa’s idea to start the swim club, so really, Nagisa only has himself to blame for Rei’s suffering eyes.

            “Are we going, then?” Haru asks, eager for them to get their surprise out of the way. Maybe he’ll be able to get to the pool before it closes.

            “Let me drive, Rei,” Rin says, and Rei looks at him in indecision.

            “I’ll drive!” Nagisa shouts, but Rin is quick to shut him down.

            “Haru’s only turning twenty-five, not nearly old enough to die yet.”

            “Nagisa is a very safe driver,” Rei says, but no one believes him, and even Rei looks dubious as he brings his fingers up in a flutter by his eyes, pushing up the glasses he’s not wearing in order to impress the “safe driver.”

            As Rin begins arguing with Nagisa over who will get the keys, and Rei looks between them, lost and red-eyed and unsure to whom to hand the keys, Haru looks away from them out the glass doors of his apartment building. He can see Rei’s car parked in a way that is inches from being considered double-parked. So wherever they’re taking him must be far enough that a car makes more sense than the train.

            It doesn’t really mean anything to Haru, who has no wish to go farther than the nearby pool that’s only a block away – the largest selling point in buying his new apartment a few months before, after the Olympics.

            “Haru, come on, I’m driving, so you don’t have to worry. Let’s go, there might be traffic,” Rin says, and Haru glances over to see Rei consoling the dejected Nagisa by awkwardly patting his shoulder.

            After almost ten years, Haru is surprised at the lack of what has changed. Everything is the same.

_Everything is the same._

            In the car, Haru gets the passenger seat, presented to him in a flourish of hand movements by Nagisa in the name of his “birthday,” though Haru knows it’s more likely that Nagisa wants to share the backseat with Rei.

            Haru doesn’t mind. He glances in the sideview mirror as Rin pulls out of the parking lot – chastising Rei for his crooked parking job – and watches Nagisa lean his head on Rei’s shoulder as if just the act of getting into the car has exhausted him.

            He wonders what it feels like. To find comfort in another person. To rest his head so easily on Rei’s shoulder, to not feel strange about it, to prefer the contact, to have such urges as Nagisa so obviously does and so does Rei, who is back to rubbing his eyes, though he has not complained about his contacts once in the week since he’s worn them.

            Haru is not jealous. Not even curious. Just confused.

            He is not sure what is so different between him and his friends. He is not sure if this difference is a bad thing.

            “Nanase, don’t think so hard on your birthday,” Rin murmurs, and Haru glances over at him.

            “I’m not,” he objects.

            Rin does not take his eyes off the road, but his smirk is visible through his profile. “Don’t worry. It’s not a pool, but it’s not some torture chamber either. You’ll like it, trust me, just sit back and relax.”

            Haru sits back and watches the horizon in the window. He knows the ocean is close by, but he cannot see it.

            Still, it is enough to know that it is close.

*

Of course, Haru has heard of him.

            Or it, he’s not sure what the correct term is when referring to a part man, part orca, and now that he thinks about it, Haru cannot remember what the news reports classified him as either.

            Probably an it.

            “Tickets to see it are expensive,” Haru says, as Nagisa pulls him down the steps to the bottom floor of the aquarium.

            “What did I tell you about complaining?” Rin asks, but at the same time, he elbows Haru. “Twenty-five is a big one, right? And we never properly celebrated the big win, now did we?”

            “You took me to dinner,” Haru reminds, but Rin shrugs it off.

            “Try to enjoy something, will you?” he says, and Haru can tell his exasperation is just for show from the way he flashes Haru a shark-toothed smile.

            Haru looks away from him – he has to, as Nagisa has nearly tripped and led them both crashing down the stairs, and it is only Haru, grabbing onto the rail at the last second, who saves them.

            “Nagisa, will you be careful!” Rei shouts, from above them, and Haru is surprised he could see their near-fall at all.

            “I’m so excited! Aren’t you excited, Haru?”

            Haru does not reply. It’s not that he’s not interested, it’s just that every time he thinks about the part man, part orca, he gets a strange feeling he cannot explain.

            “A real live merman, Haru, how crazy is that?”

            “Is it still a merman if it’s part orca? Aren’t mermaids supposed to be half fish or something?” Rin asks.

            “Who cares,” Nagisa replies, and that closes that argument.

            The door leading to the creature’s tank is roped off, and beside it stands a young man in a green t-shirt, checking peoples’ tickets. Rin pulls out all four and distributes them.

            Haru takes his, reads it to pass the time, as the line is long.

            “Makoto the Merman,” is written in large green letters, next to FULL ACCESS.

            “See, it says merman,” Nagisa is saying.

            “Makoto,” Haru murmurs, and the way his tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth brings back that strange feeling he cannot explain.

            “What was that?” Rei asks, from beside him, and Haru looks up at him.

            “Nothing,” Haru replies.

            The line lessens quickly, and then Haru is presenting his Makoto the Merman ticket to a man who tears off the end of it and unhooks his rope to allow Haru and his friends to pass through.

            The room is dark, with black walls against which the dancing shadow of the tank bounce off. The tank is the only source of light, illuminated so that the water shines a cheerful sky blue. Children stand against it, and parents stand not far back, some with their hands against the glass just like the kids.

            Haru looks past the small crowd – the limit to the room is fifteen, so as not to spook the merman, according to the information packet Nagisa read aloud – into the tank.

            At first, he sees nothing but a large tail, black and white and massive and elegant, swishing slowly. He trails his eyes along from the Y-shaped tail, over the shiny black back, and just as he’s tracing his gaze over the dorsal fin, the smooth black of the skin ends to make way for a soft tan.

            And then Haru sees the man. Well, half a man. Just the torso, but he’s so – _normal,_ it’s startling. Unsettling, almost, how human he is.

            He’s muscular, lean, his tan skin pulled tight over hipbones and hard muscle – abs and pectorals that rival the muscles of Haru’s competition at the Olympics. His shoulders are surprisingly broad, giving way to long arms that are just as toned.

            His face is turned away from Haru, but his hair is not stringy like Haru expected, but soft-looking in the water, fluttering gracefully, a little longer than Haru’s, a light brown.

            “He’s beautiful,” Rei says, but for a second, Haru is sure he was the one who said it, even puts his fingers up to his lips, wondering how his thoughts could escape without his permission before he realizes the words belong to the man beside him.

            “Wow,” Rin says, and Haru waits for Nagisa’s exclamation – not taking his eyes from the merman – but there’s nothing but odd silence from the usually most talkative of the group.

            “Nagisa, are you okay?” Rei asks, suddenly, his voice alarmed, and only then does Haru glance over to see that Nagisa has tears in his eyes.

            “He – He – He’s so _amazing_!” Nagisa shouts, and then he’s running over, and Haru lets Rei chase after him, resumes looking at the merman, who has turned now.

            Who is looking straight back at Haru now.

            It is as though the vaguely strange feeling has multiplied to the extent that it becomes tangible and shocking, that it courses in a flash through Haru’s body, starting from his chest and ending in a tingling that runs through his arms and down his fingertips, through his legs and to his feet. He blinks, though it seems more appropriate to shout out.

            The merman has green eyes that stare at him through his bangs, which flutter gently over his forehead. He does not look away, so neither does Haru, despite the flash, despite the tingling.

            “Is it looking at you?” Rin asks, but Haru hears him as though his voice is through several feet of water, distorted, vague, unreal.

            Nothing feels real but the merman. What a strange feeling.

            What strange eyes.

            It occurs to Haru, after another minute of staring, that there is nothing strange about the eyes. In fact, they are quite ordinary. He can’t place what is strange about them. Maybe it’s some merman quality he can’t put his finger on.

            Yes, probably that.

            “I think it is,” Rin is saying, and Haru looks away from the merman’s gaze to glance at Rin, then around him, realizing that several people are looking at him, noticing that he is the new subject of the merman’s attention.

            Haru shrugs. He doesn’t like everyone looking at him. It reminds him of the Olympics, standing on the starting block, wishing for the whistle when he could submerge himself, be free of the stares, be free of everything, for a little while, when the water enveloped him again.

            “Haru, come closer,” Nagisa says, and Haru glances down to see his friend has returned by his side, is pulling his arm, and Haru follows numbly, unable to protest as the tingling feeling has left him in a sort of shock he cannot explain.

            Rei is beside the tank, rifling through his wallet.

            “To talk on the phone, you have to pay a dollar,” Nagisa explains, and Haru looks at where Nagisa is pointing and sees three little kids attempting to share a red phone, connected by a coiled wire that disappears into the side of the tank.

            Haru looks up at the merman, and notices that his lips are moving, though he himself is not holding a phone.

            “Want to talk, Haru?” Nagisa asks, but Haru shakes his head.

            He cannot imagine what he would say to this creature.

            “They taught him Japanese after he came with them, and now he’s basically fluent. He’s apparently very smart, much more intelligent than a human,” Nagisa says, clutching the informational pamphlet where he must have gotten this information.

            Haru just nods back. The merman looks at him again, and the tingling, which has somewhat calmed, starts up again even more violently, shaking the flesh under Haru’s skin.

            The kids on the phone are shouting that they love the merman, and the merman looks back at them, mouths something Haru can easily imagine as an echo of the kids’ words, and smiles at them.

            It is such a warm smile that it catches Haru by surprise. He has never seen a smile so genuine, not even from his own parents, and it doesn’t make sense, as these children are strangers to the merman, he is a stranger to them.

            “Well, I’m going to talk,” Nagisa says, and it occurs to Haru that Nagisa may have been talking this entire time, that it is hard to concentrate on anything but the merman, that this isn’t very normal, but Haru is known for spacing out, it’s nothing new, no one will be suspicious.

            Suspicious of what, Haru isn’t sure himself.

            The kids hang up the phone as their mother pulls them away, and Nagisa bounds forward, crumpled bill – courtesy of Rei – in hand. He attempts to shove it through the payment slot, and the effort takes three tries before it is accepted.

            “Hello!” Nagisa shouts into the phone, and Haru winces, but the merman does not seem concerned by the volume.

            Haru watches as his lips curl around the syllables of _Hello._

            He doesn’t want to watch anymore, and turns away to see Rin staring at him.

            “You’re absolutely lovely, but of course, you must know that, also, I always knew you were real, other people doubted you, but I knew you were – Oh, my name is Hazuki Nagisa, you can call me Nagisa, I’m here with my best friend because it’s his birthday, and he loves the water, probably as much as you, I’ve always said he was the descendant of mermaids, this is just more proof, his name is Nanase Haruka but everyone just calls him Haru – see, we all have girls’ names, just like you, isn’t that something crazy?” Nagisa is rambling, and Haru closes his eyes.

            He wonders if the merman is looking at him, as no doubt Nagisa is pointing to him.

            He wonders what the merman is saying in reply. Wonders if he were to turn, would he see those lips curling around the syllables of his name, of _Haru_.

            “Are you okay, Haru?” Rin asks, and Haru opens his eyes.

            “Of course,” he replies, easily.

            The concern on Rin’s face is familiar, and Haru feels as though he has gone back months before, to the night after the race.

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

            “Of course,” Haru says again, forgetting that he already replied.

            Rin does not look convinced, but he didn’t at the Olympics either, and he still let it go.

            Haru turns back around, hoping Rin will let it go again. Nagisa is still talking at full speed to the merman who looks bewildered, but in an amused sort of way.

            _Wait till you’ve heard him talk his nonsense for over a decade,_ Haru thinks, then blinks, surprised at himself for talking in his own head to this merman.

            The merman looks up at him, as if he can read Haru’s thoughts. He smiles at him, a gentler smile than the kids received, something almost hesitant, almost wary.

            Almost warm, but a smile cannot have a temperature, and the thought is absurd.

            “Do you want to talk to Haru?” Nagisa is asking, into the phone, and the merman looks down at Nagisa, then back at Haru, who is frozen, who is waiting, who is hopeful – no, he’s not, he doesn’t want to talk to this creature, he has nothing to say, he has no thoughts worth sharing with this half man half orca.

            Haru thinks the merman is about to nod, but he cannot be sure, as at that second the phone beeps, and Haru realizes Nagisa must be out of time for his dollar’s worth.

            “Oh no!” Nagisa shouts, and then another man in a green t-shirt – which says the name of the aquarium, Haru realizes – is opening a door on the other side of the room, telling them their time is up, asking if they’ll kindly file out now.

            “That’s it?” Rin is grumbling, and Haru leads the way out, looking back once at the merman, who is still staring at him.

            “I think he likes you,” Nagisa whispers, and Haru doesn’t reply because the thought is ridiculous.

            The thing doesn’t even know him. Of course he doesn’t like him.

            Of course _it_ doesn’t.

*

“ ‘Makoto was attracted to the surface of the ocean by the sound of human voices, as he is an extremely sociable creature. Although communication was difficult at first, Makoto understood – due to his extreme intellect – that the fisherman who found him were offering to immerse him in human society, and Makoto was eager to accept. He loves people and making them happy, and is glad of the opportunities available to him by our aquarium. Makoto only receives the best of care, and resources include – ’ ”

            “Nagisa, can you shut up?” Rin says, and Nagisa shuts up.

            Haru glances at Rin, who peers back at him.

            “What?” Rin asks, but Haru says nothing, looks back out the car window. “Is it so wrong to want some quiet?” Rin continues.

            “I was just educating you,” Nagisa complains, from the backseat.

            “I don’t want to be educated,” Rin replies.

            The rest of the car ride is silent. Rin drops Rei, Nagisa, and Rei’s car at Rei’s house, and to Haru’s relief, denies all invitations to go out for dinner.

            Haru is exhausted, and glad that Rin manages to shake both Nagisa and Rei for the night. He thanks them for his surprise, receives a hug from Nagisa, and manages to walk away with Rin without Nagisa making too much of a fuss.

            They walk in the direction of Rin’s place, which is on the way to Haru’s, and silence sits comfortably for a few minutes until Rin speaks.

            “It kind of bothers me too,” Rin says, and Haru glances over to see him looking up at the sky.

            “What?” Haru asks.

            “I mean, it was so – _human_ , you know? But it was in a tank. Like a cage.”

            Haru shrugs and looks away from Rin. “You heard Nagisa. He wants to be there. He likes it.”

            “You buy that bullshit?” Rin asks.

            Haru breathes deeply, exhales slowly, thinks about that smile, how genuinely happy it seemed, those eyes, that didn’t quite match it even so. “Nagisa said he’s really strong. Could have broken through any fisherman’s net. Could have gotten away from any person trying to catch him. So he had to have wanted to come.”

            “You didn’t answer my question.”

            “What question?” Haru asks, looking at the sky now too, how the clouds are wispy today, hardly clouds any more than shreds of something that might have been whole once.

            “Do you really buy that bullshit, Nanase?” Rin asks, and he stops walking this time, so Haru stops too, pulls his gaze away from the sky.

            “Sure,” he says, because what else is there to believe?

            Rin watches him in silence for half a minute, then shrugs. “You want to come over for tea or a drink?” he asks, and Haru realizes they only stopped because they’re in front of Rin’s building.

            He shakes his head. “Tired,” he explains, though the excuse isn’t really necessary, as Rin wouldn’t pressure him.

            “Sure. Happy birthday, Haru,” Rin says, and then he’s clasping Haru on the arm before he lets go and walks to his building.

            Haru doesn’t watch him. He turns and continues the walk to his own apartment building. He plans on taking a long bath, on washing away the strange feeling that has settled in him now instead of dispersing as he expected it would.

            He looks up at the sky as he walks, but the wisps of clouds have disappeared, dissolved into nothingness, and Haru wonders if he only imagined them there in the first place.

*

It is a month before Haru is handing his second Makoto the Merman FULL ACCESS ticket to another green-shirted employee – this time, a young girl – and walking into the dark room with the huge tank.

            This time, it is in the middle of the week, as opposed to a weekend, and in the middle of the work day, so the room is nearly empty, just Haru and a small family of a father and two young girls who are talking on the phone to the merman when Haru walks in.

            The merman does not look up, as he is crouched by the bottom of his tank, talking enthusiastically to the girls, who share the phone between them.

            Haru walks in slowly and watches the merman, who looks exactly as he did a month before. He laughs, and Haru is again surprised by his happiness.

            The strange feeling is back, but Haru expected it and pays it no attention. Well, as little attention as he can.

            The phone beeps, and the girls beg their father for more cash, but he is stern, explaining that six dollars is it, they have talked to the nice merman enough for one day.

            The girls whine, and the father pulls them both by their little hands out the exit on the other side of the room, shooting Haru a helpless look as though Haru could sympathize with him when Haru has no experience with kids, is in fact somewhat frightened of them.

            He walks up to the tank after the family has left, knowing the merman is probably looking at him now but unable to look up himself until he is right in front of the glass wall, watching the way the water’s playful shadows skitter over his shoes.

            He looks up after a minute, nearly gasps because he forgot how large the merman’s body was. The torso is normal sized, in comparison to a human – maybe a little broader shouldered, maybe the smallest bit taller than average – but the tail is massive, the tail of an animal, unavoidable, undeniable, inhuman and incredible.

            Haru takes his time to examine the tail, to remind himself that it is there, before he allows himself to look back at the human-portion of the creature.

            The merman also seems to be examining Haru. He is not looking at Haru’s face when Haru finally looks at his, but at Haru’s torso, at his t-shirt, his arms, and Haru watches the green eyes trail along to his waist, to where he has wrapped his sweater and tied the arms around his hips, down to his thighs and his legs, then back up slowly.

            Haru wonders what the merman thinks of his body. If he is as amazed at it as Haru is of the merman’s. The pamphlet did say that the merman wanted to immerse himself in the human world, to be a part of it in any way he could.

            _Do you really buy that bullshit, Nanase?_

            Then the merman is looking at Haru’s face, but not his eyes, not yet. Haru can feel the gaze as if it is something tangible, and his chin is warm, then his ears, then his nose, then his lips, for a pause, his lips, and Haru opens them, thinks he should say something, but he has nothing to say, and the merman would not be able to hear him without the phone anyway.

            Still the lips, and Haru licks them as if the merman’s gaze is something he could taste.

            He can’t, of course – how foolish a thing to think.

            The green eyes trail along to Haru’s hair now, and Haru feels, for the first time, self-conscious. He cannot remember how is hair looked that morning – was it unruly? Did it dry oddly after he emerged from the bath? He never brushes it – should he be brushing it?

            The merman could not be one to talk if that were the case, however, as his hair flutters wildly in the water, soft against the liquid and his skin, clumps moving gracefully the way Haru imagines planets move in space.

            Then the merman finally reaches Haru’s gaze, and they stare at each other for several seconds, or maybe a whole minute, Haru cannot be sure.

            After whatever span of time it is, the merman points, and Haru follows his finger on a hand that looks huge – maybe just an effect of the glass, Haru can’t be sure – to see that he is pointing at the telephone.

            _I have nothing to say,_ Haru thinks, looking back at the merman’s face.

            The merman nods and stops pointing.

            “Makoto,” Haru murmurs, just to practice the name again, to feel the click of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

            The merman smiles. _Haru_ , it seems as though his lips are saying, but there’s no way that’s right, as he cannot possibly remember from a month ago when Nagisa introduced him in such a scatter of breath and words.

            Even though there is no green-shirted employee telling Haru that his time is up, he suspects it is, and turns away from the tank. He glances back and sees the merman still watching him, wonders if he actually looks sad or if that is some trick of the water, a strange reflection against the glass of the tank.

            _Bye,_ is what Haru should say, and he knows this, opens his lips to say it even though the glass won’t let it be said, but instead the words that come out are a confession.

            “I threw out the gold medals the night I got home,” he admits, into the dark room.

            The merman stares back, and Haru doesn’t know why he thought the merman would do anything else.

            Haru leaves the room, and it’s much too bright on the other side of the door.

*


	2. Chapter 2

The third time Haru visits, he sits in front of the tank because he’s tired, his legs ache, he overswam and he knows it, and it wasn’t just one lap too many, it was several, more than he can count.

            The merman looks concerned, in his heavy-lidded way.

            “When humans swim too much, we damage our muscles,” Haru explains, to his knees, which he has pulled up to his chest, before looking back at the merman and allowing himself to be amazed by him for the third time.

            The merman settles at the bottom of his tank, huge tail curled underneath him so that the black of it makes it look as though he’s being swallowed by a large pit.

            Haru doesn’t find the need to say anything else. It’s not like the merman can hear him anyway. Even if he wanted to use the phone, he doesn’t have any loose bills, and the ATM outside the room was out of order.

            He sits and watches the merman watching him, then uncurling his tail after several minutes and taking several laps around his tank, some of them taking him out of Haru’s view as the tank dips down by the back and goes around on the sides. When he disappears, Haru is left to stare at the blueness of the water, the calm stillness left in the merman’s wake as if the merman never existed at all, and the emptiness reminds Haru of something, but he can’t quite place it.

            When the merman swims back into view, sometimes he looks at Haru, but other times he simply swims past as if he’s forgotten Haru sits and watches him.

            Haru knows his time in the merman’s room has long since been spent, but as he has come at such an obscure hour – eight in the morning on a Tuesday – hardly anyone is at the aquarium, and no one else walks into the dark room.

            People are getting used to Makoto the Merman, who was such big news months before. Haru doesn’t really understand it. There is nothing about Makoto that can be gotten used to. He is everything extraordinary, it is undeniable, it is simply a fact.

            On the tenth or eleventh lap, the merman stops swimming and again points at the phone in front of Haru, who shakes his head.

            “I don’t have anything to say,” he explains.

            The merman is not undeterred. He simply points to himself, and it occurs to Haru for the first time that the merman might have something to say to him.

            “I don’t have cash,” Haru says, feeling suddenly helpless, wishing, strangely, that the ATM was not out of order.

            The merman nods his head encouragingly, and Haru looks again at the telephone, sees that there is in fact an option to slide his card. He fishes his wallet from his pocket and doesn’t allow himself to think as he slides his credit card in the available slit and picks up the receiver.

            He breathes into the phone, but cannot speak, cannot even look at the merman. He stares at the phone box instead.

            “Haru,” says a voice against his ear, and Haru nearly drops the phone.

            He wheels around and stares at the merman.

            _Makoto_ , he thinks, but he cannot get his voice out from his throat. He doesn’t understand his own surprise, his own confusion, his own heart. He searches the merman for some answer, but the merman offers nothing but his own voice again as though he is standing right beside Haru, speaking softly into his ear in a way that is too familiar despite the impossibility of it.

            “It makes me happy when you visit me,” the merman says.

            _Makoto._

            “Late happy birthday,” the merman continues, to the glass, to Haru.

            _Makoto. Thank you._

            Haru clenches the phone tighter.

            “I don’t know when my birthday is,” the merman says. “Where I’m from, we don’t celebrate the day we were born like humans do. It’s very…what’s the word – interesting? I wish I knew when my birthday was. Then I could celebrate it here, like you.”

            Haru sits back down, glad the phone cord is long enough to allow the action. He holds the phone closer to his ear.

            Something about the merman’s voice reminds him of water. The way it feels cool at first, makes him shiver, but as it keeps pouring into his ear, seeps into his skin, becomes part of him, leaves him warm, feels like drowning.

            Haru closes his eyes. The merman keeps talking. About his day. About the weekend, all the people that came, the children – he likes children, Haru can tell – what he ate for lunch, what he hopes they’ll serve him for dinner.

            When Haru closes his eyes, just listens to the voice pouring in his ear, it feels as though he is underwater. Only the beep of the phone interrupts his illusion, but Haru is quick to reach up from his seated position, slide his card again and again and again, and then Makoto’s voice is back, just as clearly, dripping slowly at first in droplets then pouring like a stream.

            Haru has missed the comfort of water. It has been so long, since water felt like it used to, but now it’s back, just as it was before, everything is peaceful again, everything is calm.

            “Haru. Haru, Haru – ”

            Haru opens his eyes, blinks, realizes he fell asleep, and then the phone is beeping again, so Haru stretches up and slides his card one more time – he doesn’t know how many times he’s swiped it, it doesn’t matter.

            “Did I act boring – Am I boring to you? – A bore… I’m sorry, I’m still learning your language,” the merman says, and Haru looks up to his smile.

            It’s small and beautiful, and to Haru, it looks fragile, as if the smallest ripple could wash it right away.

            “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be something boring,” the merman continues.

            _Makoto. It’s okay. You didn’t bore me, I was just tired, I was just so warm._

            “You won’t say anything, will you?” the merman says gently. _That’s okay, I don’t mind._

            Haru blinks, knowing he didn’t see the merman’s lips move, but he’s sure that is what the merman is trying to tell him.

            The relief is dizzying. As though some pressure has lifted, as though some freedom has been uncovered.

            The merman is smiling again, that smile of his.

            “My visiting hours end soon,” he says, and Haru looks behind him at the clock the merman points at. “I look forward to your next visit, Haru.”

            Haru looks back at the merman, then stands up and places the phone back on the receiver.

            “Me too,” Haru says, to the glass. “Makoto.”

*

On the way to Rin’s house, Haru walks past a small group of people with picket signs. He reads them only because the sky is boring today, a low gray that scrapes the tops of buildings as if it too is weighted down with longing for the cheery blue.

_Freedom is the right of man!_

_He’s human too!_

_HE not IT!_

_FREE THE MERMAN!_

            There is even a picture of Makoto the Merman’s face on one of the signs, slightly blurry from being stretched out, but clear enough. Under it is the sloppy caption: _Are you more human than this man?_

            Haru passes them without comment, and soon is knocking on Rin’s door, which Ai opens, his silver hair scattered as if he’s just traipsed through a windstorm, and a bit of toothpaste on the edge of his lip.

            “Oh, hi, Haru!” he says, cheerily, and Haru nods.

            “Ai. Is Rin home? We’re supposed to – ”

            “Coming, Sousuke stole my fucking pants!” Rin yells, from up the stairs.

            Haru glances at Ai, who shrugs and wipes the toothpaste from his lip.

            “Wanna come in while he gets ready?” Ai asks, stepping away from the door to let Haru in even though Haru would be fine to wait on the porch.

            He walks inside, and turns left to the kitchen area where Sousuke sits, only identifiable by the sprout of black hair above his newspaper. A hand reaches out from the side of the newspaper and grabs a cup of coffee.

            “Haru’s here,” Ai says, and the newspaper falls to reveal the apparent pants-thief.

            “I didn’t steal his pants,” Sousuke says, as he drops the coffee mug from his lips. “I washed them.”

            Haru shrugs, as he doesn’t really care either way, unlike Rin, who is banging around upstairs in audible disgruntlement.

            “You just missed Momo,” Ai offers, stealing a slice of toast from the plate beside Sousuke’s mug. “He set off this morning to stay with his parents for a few days.”

            Haru doesn’t ask why, and isn’t really given the chance to, as Rin bounds downstairs at that moment, and all three occupants in the kitchen turn to stare at him as he falls through the doorway, hair half out of his low ponytail and scowl hitched.

            “Don’t fucking touch my clothes, Sousuke, I have a system,” he snaps, offering no greeting to Haru.

            “I have a system too. It’s called laundry,” Sousuke replies coolly, replacing the newspaper in front of his face.

            Ai grins at Haru in a stiff-lipped way. “They’re killing me,” he whispers, through his teeth.

            “Don’t back talk me, you asshole!” Rin shouts at the newspaper, but Haru has had enough of the shouting, and pulls his friend’s sleeve.

            “Let’s go,” he says, waving at Ai and Sousuke’s newspaper as he pulls Rin away from them and out his front door.

            The mall isn’t far from Rin’s place, and Haru is silent as they walk, mostly because Rin carries a steady diatribe of complaints about Sousuke that Haru has heard before. They walk straight to their favorite place to buy swimsuits, and Haru watches Rin examine their new selection.

            “Look, they’ve got yours,” Rin says, ten minutes into his search, offering the hanger to Haru, but Haru shakes his head, keeping his hands in his pockets.

            “No, thanks.”

            Rin’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t replace the swimsuit. “Something’s up.”

            “No,” Haru disagrees, looking away from him, pretending to be interested in a neon green Speedo, which happens to be next to him.

            “Spill it, Nanase.”

            “Nothing is wrong,” Haru replies, to the green speedo.

            “I didn’t say something was wrong. I said something was up. But apparently something’s wrong, so why don’t you just tell me. Your silences aren’t endearing, you know.” Rin finally hangs back up the swimsuit he picked for Haru and folds his arms over his chest.

            Haru watches him back in silence until Rin sighs and runs a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face only momentarily before they fall back into place.

            “Haru, jeez. Can’t you ever just tell me anything? Don’t you know we worry about you?” he says, turning away as he says it, sighing again and walking away while Haru stares after him in surprise.

            Haru blinks at Rin’s back, then hurries to catch up, walking in silence beside him for a few steps as they leave the shop and walk in the direction of the food court.

            “I’m fine,” Haru insists, at their feet.

            “No, you’re not,” Rin says back, like he knows everything, and Haru’s fingers curl into his palms for a second before he relaxes again.

            “Yes, I am.”

            “No, Haru, you’re not. Christ, just admit it, will you? God, sometimes I swear you’re not even human.”

            _Are you more human than this man?_

            “What does that mean?” Haru asks, looking up at Rin now. _What does it mean to be human?_          

            “What? Just that you’re so closed off, you know? Always in your own little world, let us in, will you? At least me,” Rin grumbles, and Haru looks away.

            “Sorry,” he offers, and Rin sighs again.

            “Whatever, Nanase. I’m getting a slice of pizza, you want one?”

            “No. I’ll find a table,” Haru replies, and sets off, finding one in the back of the cafeteria. Rin returns not long after with two slices of pizza and two bottles of water, one of which he offers to Haru, who takes it gratefully.

            “So?”

            Haru looks at Rin over his water bottle.

            Rin takes a large bite of pizza, winces and gulps down several swallows of water, then exhales loudly. “Fuck, that was hot. Anyway, you’re not off the hook. What’s up? It’s me, you can tell me.”

            _Nothing_ , Haru is about to say, but instead he says, “Did you see those protesters on your street?”

            “Hmm?” Rin asks, mouth full of another bite of pizza.

            “They don’t like that Makoto is kept in captivity.”

            “Who?” Rin asks, leaning forward now, pizza in hand but not taking another bite.

            “Makoto the merman,” Haru reminds him, not sure how he’s forgotten.

            “Ah. The merman,” Rin says slowly, putting down his pizza. “Thought you said it didn’t bother you.”

            “It doesn’t,” Haru says quickly.

            “So the protesters bother you?”

            “Nothing is bothering me.”

            “Then why are you talking about this, Haru?” Rin snaps.

            Haru shrugs. It’s something to talk about, and Rin wants to talk.

            “Have you gone to see it again?” Rin asks, picking up his pizza again and taking another bite, this time of the crust.

            “Yes,” Haru replies.

            “Theriouthly?” Rin asks, mouth full of pizza, and crumbs fly out. “Oh, thorry,” he apologizes, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

            “Yes, seriously.”

            “When?” Rin demands.

            “Three days ago. And the week before that.”

            “What? Why?” Rin asks, looking shocked, though Haru cannot imagine that he has said anything shocking.

            He shrugs.

            _His voice feels like water used to._

            “Have you talked to it?”

            “Yes.”

            “Are you kidding me? You talk to the freaking whale man and you won’t talk to me without it being like pulling teeth?” Rin snaps.

            Haru blinks. “He’s not a whale man. He’s part orca. That’s from the dolphin family.”

            “Haru, I don’t give shit what it is.”

            “I think you should say he. I think he’s a he,” Haru says mildly, and Rin stares as if he’s said something ridiculous.

            “What, are you friends with the whale man now?”

            “Orca.”

            “Jeez, Haru, I don’t get you,” Rin mutters, shaking his head and moving onto his second slice of pizza.

            Haru knows this. Knows his friends don’t quite understand him. Knows the way Rin looks at him now well – in confusion, like he’s a puzzle, like he’s not quite normal.

            _He’s human too!_

            He shrugs and takes another sip of water. It’s cool down his throat, smooth and gentle, but then it’s not, then it’s salty and sharp, then it’s like knives down his throat and he feels like he’s choking and coughs, splattering water over the table, slamming the bottle down and cupping his hand over his lips as he keeps coughing, shoulders hunched.

            “Haru? Are you okay?”

            “Yeah, I just – ” Haru takes several deep breaths, takes the napkin Rin holds out, wipes his lips and hands and the table, keeps breathing deeply, waits for his heartbeat to slow.

            “What?” Rin asks, leaning over the table.

            “I thought,” Haru starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish because his thought doesn’t make sense. He shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

            Rin tucks his bangs behind his ear and rests his chin on his hand, watching Haru carefully. “For a second there, Haru, you looked really scared.”

            Haru focuses on wiping the water off the table.

            “Were you? Scared?”

            “I just choked on water.”

            “I know, that’s why it was weird for you to look scared,” Rin says slowly.

            Haru doesn’t want to think about it anymore, and changes the topic. “I’m going to visit him today. Do you want to come?”

            “Visit who? Wait, the whale guy?”

            “Even though orcas are also known as killer whales, they’re not actually whales,” Haru corrects, again.

            “Does it matter?” Rin grumbles. “Wanna tell me why you visit this thing so much? Cause I mean, not to blow my own horn, but you’ve got friends you don’t have to pay to see,” Rin says, gesturing to himself.

            “He’s not my friend,” Haru replies, surprised at the thought.

            “So why, exactly, do you want to visit it when all I’ve ever known you to want to do is swim?” Rin asks, leaning across the table.

            Haru looks away from him at the crumpled napkin in his hand, then looks back up to meet Rin’s gaze. “Because he asked me to come back,” he replies, and Rin blinks, looking surprised, but Haru is already standing, grabbing his half-empty water bottle and leading the way out of the mall, Rin catching up behind him after he’s replaced his tray.

            “You’re crazy,” Rin says.

            “Can we take your car? Your place is closer,” Haru says in response, and Rin just rolls his eyes, but Haru knows it’s a yes.

*

“Hey, you know, if you worked here, you could see him for free,” a familiar-looking girl in a green t-shirt says, as she rips the end off Haru’s fourth Makoto the Merman FULL ACCESS ticket, and Haru realizes she must have noticed his continuous visits.

            “I’m not looking for a job,” he replies, but then he realizes he probably should be.

            It’s not like he’s training for another Olympics, and it’s been a while since he was last asked to endorse a product – not that he ever agreed, but still, he’s going to need some sort of revenue.

            The girl just smiles. “Applications are online. Haru, right? What’s your full name? I’ll put in a good word for you.”

            Haru blinks, wondering how the girl knows his name. “Nanase Haruka,” he replies, and then Rin is calling him from the door of the dark room.

            “Stop flirting, Nanase, are you going to introduce me to your new best friend or what?”

            “I wasn’t flirting,” Haru says, as he joins Rin, and Rin just elbows him in the side.

            “Maybe you should have been. She was cute.”

            Haru just looks at Rin, who looks back, eyebrows raised in a challenge Haru doesn’t care to take, as he has better things to do.

            Better things being looking up at the merman, who is watching him, his smile immediate and wider than any Haru has received yet.

            The shock of electricity is no less intense, but Haru is used to it now, expects it, doesn’t mind it so much despite his confusion as to why his limbs are left with prickling heat every time the merman looks at him.

            “Do you have a dollar?” Haru asks Rin, who stares back.

            “You’re making me pay?”

            Haru just holds out his hand, and Rin complains under his breath as he fishes out his wallet.

            Haru peeks back at the merman, who is laughing lightly, bubbles escaping his lips. Haru watches, fascinated, and wonders what a laugh sounds like under water. He looks down the merman’s torso, reminding himself of the massive tail again – it’s so big, yet so easy to forget, somehow.

            “Here, asshole,” Rin mutters, and Haru takes his dollar, feeding it into the slot and listening to the familiar processing sound as he picks up the phone.

            “Hello, Haru,” says the merman.

            “Makoto,” Haru says, accidentally, and the merman’s eyes widen in surprise, then he’s smiling again in a way that crinkles the corners of his eyes.

            Haru stares at the smile, knowing he’s never seen anything like it.

            _Are you more human than this man?_

            “Haru,” the merman says again, but in a way that stretches the two simple syllables as far as they will go, and the smile is evident in his voice, laced through it, a thrill of surprise and happiness that is tangible against Haru’s ear.

            An elbow in Haru’s side reminds him of Rin’s presence – of the presence of the rest of the world, in truth – and Haru looks over at his friend, then back at the merman, who watches him expectantly.

            “This is my friend Matsuoka Rin,” Haru says, gesturing to Rin, who grabs the phone from him.

            “Yo,” Rin says, and Haru watches the merman’s lips move and Rin laugh.

            “What did he say?” Haru asks, but Rin just shakes his head and puts out a hand to Haru.

            “Sure, tell me something though, whale man, how do you get this guy to talk to you? Cause we’ve been friends for over two decades and the guy still won’t give me the time of day,” Rin is saying, and Haru reaches out, trying to take the phone from him, but Rin pushes him off.

            “Rin,” Haru warns, but he’s looking at the merman, who looks back at him even as he talks to Rin again.

            “Is that right? Not hard to believe. And yeah, yeah, save it about the whales, I’ve heard it all before.”

            “Give back the phone, Rin.”

            “It’s my dollar, back off.”

            “Rin,” Haru says again, and Rin finally looks at him.

            “Damn, never seen you so serious, Nanase, calm down, here you go,” Rin says, handing Haru the phone and looking at him too long, so Haru looks away, not wanting to know what Rin is thinking.

            He can think whatever he wants.

            “Rin seems nice. A good friend,” the merman says gently, while Rin crouches down close to the glass and inspects the merman’s tail.

            Haru nods and watches Rin, not knowing why he’s so bothered at the way Rin is looking at the merman.

            “Haru.”

            “Makoto?” Haru asks, then puts his hand up to his lips.

            The merman – Makoto – smiles again. “I like when you say my name. Your voice is soothing,” he says.

            Haru blinks, suddenly wants to say something else, take the conversation away from himself. “Did you have friends?”

            “Damn, this thing is cool,” Rin is whispering to the glass, and Haru wishes he hadn’t asked Rin to come along.

            “In the ocean? Yes, but I don’t think we were as close as you and Rin. My best friends were my – ” Makoto stops talking, and Haru looks away from Rin to see the merman staring blankly at the glass.

            _Makoto?_

            Makoto looks back up, smiles gently as if comforting Haru. “Sorry,” he apologizes.

            _Are you okay?_ Haru thinks, and then he thinks about the times Rin asked him the same question, how the answer was always _No_ , no matter what Haru replied.

            “Your best friends?” Haru asks, thinking that if his voice is soothing to Makoto, maybe he’ll try to offer it just a little more often.

            Makoto swishes his tail, and Rin gasps audibly.

            “I mean, shit, that thing is big,” Rin says, standing up from his crouch, but Haru pays him no attention.

            “My best friends were my siblings,” Makoto says, quietly.

            “What did it say?” Rin asks, from right beside Haru, but Haru does not look away from Makoto.

            The merman’s usually droopy eyes look even more so, weighted down under heavy eyelids that won’t allow his gaze to meet Haru’s as it always does.

            “What did you say to it? It looks really sad, don’t you think?” Rin is continuing, and Haru takes the phone away from his lips even though it hasn’t beeped yet.

            “He’s not an it,” Haru snaps, and Rin looks away from the tank quickly, stares at Haru.

            “Dude, I didn’t mean – ”

            “You should leave. You don’t understand him,” Haru says slowly, pressing the phone against his chest, hard.

            “What does that even mean? Haru, what are you talking about?” Rin asks, turning to face him fully, and Haru just shakes his head.

            “I’ll take the train back. See you later, Rin.”

            “Haru, I think – ” Rin starts, but then he just shakes his head, raises his hands as if in surrender. “Yeah, fine, whatever. Tell the whale I give my best.”

            Haru tightens his fingers around the phone, but only places it against his ear when Rin has left the room.

            In the tank, Makoto is looking at him again.

            “I could hear your heartbeat, when the phone was pressed against your chest. It was – what is the word for it? Racing?” Makoto says, and Haru’s, _Are you okay?_ dissolves on his tongue.

            He opens his lips, but no sound comes out, and the beeping of the phone is a relief.

            He can see Makoto’s silent laughter, but he cannot hear it, at least, and waits for it to stop – along with the racing of his heart – before he feeds another dollar into the phone.

*


	3. Chapter 3

Every section of the aquarium is staffed by workers wearing different colored shirts.

            The penguin exhibit staff wears pink shirts.

            The jellyfish exhibit staff wears purple shirts.

            The shark exhibit staff wears red shirts.

            The dolphin exhibit staff wears blue shirts.

            And, of course, the Makoto the Merman exhibit staff wears green shirts, one of which is presented to Haru on his first day as an official employee.

            The girl who told him about the application is set to train him, and informs him that usually, they have to work their way up to the Makoto the Merman staff, but since Haru is a personal friend of the merman, an exception was made.

            “Personal friend?” Haru asks.

            The girl nods. “Makoto himself told the manager. You’ll be on feeding and cleaning crew, direct contact, not even ticket-ripping. Lucky, I’ve been dying for your position,” she says, but she doesn’t seem bitter, just longing. “He’s so…dreamy,” she says, and Haru looks away from her.

            _Dreamy._

            “Okay, so food is here, and sometimes he has requests – when he first came here, he only knew to eat seafood, obviously, but he actually likes trying other things, you know, human food, so sometimes we sneak him food from the cafeteria, but no one knows about that, and feeding times are…”

            Haru listens attentively, asking questions to make sure he fully understands everything Makoto needs. It bothers him, somewhat, to think of taking care of Makoto, when to Haru, he seems intelligent and capable – clearly able to take care of himself – but Haru is aware that he does not in fact know Makoto as well as he wishes he did.

            Maybe the aquarium is the best place for him. Makoto, after all, was willing, wanted to come, could easily have escaped the fishermen who caught him nearly a year before.

            “And on his first year anniversary of the day he arrived, there’s going to be this huge exhibit, and I think Makoto is even going to speak publically, but they still haven’t decided yet because, you know, it’s risky – ”

            “Risky?” Haru asks, as he closes his new locker.

            “Well, I mean, he could say anything, you know? And even though we’re sure he’s happy here, I mean, he obviously is – Well, it’s still risky, that’s what they say, anyway. And there’s the protesters, they’re getting bigger, you have to watch out for them cause management is worried they might hurt him, they’re kind of crazy,” the girl continues, and Haru tries to listen, but he can’t stop thinking about the idea of Makoto as risky, of the picket signs outside Rin’s building that day.

            _Freedom is the right of man!_

            “Okay, I’ve got to go, my shift’s over, but you basically got it, right? If you have any questions, just ask another green-shirted person! Bye, nice meeting you!” the girl says, and then she’s gone, and Haru is left in the employee locker room alone.

            He glances at the mirror, at himself in his new green t-shirt, still with crease lines where it was folded in a box for so long.

            The aquarium name is on the front, and on the back, across the shoulders, is MAKOTO THE MERMAN in large blue letters.

            _FREE THE MERMAN!_

            Haru turns away from the mirror and walks to the Makoto the Merman exhibit, knowing the way well by now and trying not to imagine what Makoto will think of his new shirt.

            Instead of going through the usual dark room, Haru takes the back staircase marked “RESTRICTED Staff Only,” and walks up the stairs, then opens the door at the stop of the second flight with a swipe of the card given to him with his shirt.

            On the card are the words M the M, FULL ACCESS.

            The door opens to a large arena with high walls and a white floor rimming a huge pool, almost as large as the Olympic stadium pool. Haru walks down the steps leading to the edge of the pool, which is actually just the open top of Makoto’s tank, and stares at the bell on the side of a staircase leading into the water.

            He stretches his hand out to the bell when he reaches it, but cannot allow himself to ring it, and instead sheds his shoes and socks, rolls up his jeans, and sits on the steps leading into the pool with his elbows on his knees.

            Technically, it’s feeding time, time to ask Makoto what he feels like having for dinner that day, the time that a green-shirted staff member would usually be asking Haru to leave the exhibit, as visiting hours were over.

            Here, there will be no glass between them. There will be no reason to feed money into a phone. There will be no fee at all – in fact, now Haru is being paid to see Makoto, instead of the other way around.

            He hates it just as much.

            There is a splash, and Makoto’s face emerges from the center of the pool, followed by his forearms, and Haru watches in fascination as he pushes his hair out of his eyes with his hands.

            Out of the water, his hair is no longer fluffy and wild, but long and shiny, plastered against the sides of his face.

            He is so incredibly human, and Haru searches for his tail but cannot see it, can only make out a dark mass below Makoto’s torso, which is above the line of water.

            “Haru?” Makoto asks, and his voice feels exactly the same.

            Haru opens his mouth, but can’t say anything.

            “Are you – Do you work here now?” Makoto asks, swimming closer.

            Haru manages to nod. As Makoto swims, he creates small waves in the pool that lap up Haru’s shins, and the cuffs of his jeans begin to get wet.

            He is so worried. He has done something wrong, he knows it, he should never have taken the job, he should never have applied, he’s wearing a shirt that says Makoto the Merman and he just wants to tear it off, to burn it, never to wear it again –

            But then Makoto smiles. “I’m so glad,” he says, “I am so glad you are working here with me.”

            Haru swallows, reminds himself to close his lips, nods again because he doesn’t know what else to do.

            “You’re supposed to ring the bell,” Makoto says, pointing behind Haru at what he couldn’t bear to touch. “Sometimes they forget, but,” Makoto shrugs, smiles sheepishly, laughs a little, and the sound echoes around the entire arena, “I got hungry.”

            “I didn’t,” Haru starts, but he can’t finish.

            Makoto tilts his head. “You didn’t?”

            “Forget,” Haru breathes. He’s supposed to ask what Makoto wants to eat now. He’s supposed to lay out options, what’s on the menu today, what the merman is allowed to pick from this afternoon.

            Makoto swims closer, and the water splashes up to Haru’s knees. It is room temperature even though Haru read that Makoto the Merman prefers chilled water.

            “May I have sushi today, Haru?” the merman asks gently, and Haru thinks he will quit that day, he will turn in his t-shirt, he will turn in his M the M, FULL ACCESS key card. “And – I’ve always wanted to try France fries,” he says, adding a small smile, and Haru blinks at him.

            “French fries?”

            Makoto puts a hand to his lips. “Oh,” he says, behind his hand, and his hand is big, even for a human, not that Makoto is one, but sometimes he looks like it, Haru thinks, right now he looks like it, with his massive tail hidden by the water. “I’m sorry, I’m not – My Japanese, I’m still learning. I’m sorry,” Makoto says again, and Haru cannot imagine why the merman looks so sheepish when he must know he is incredible, he must know he is amazing, so what if he mixes France and French, so what if he has a tail too large to deny?

            _Don’t be sorry._

            The merman drops his hand, lets it rest on the surface of the water as if the chlorine-blue pool is not liquid but glass. His lips fall into a small smile, spread as if by gravity.

            “It’s okay, Haru,” he says, nodding once, and Haru wonders how he knows of the doubt tugging at Haru’s skin, of the itch to tear off his t-shirt, of the hesitation to bring Makoto the Merman his evening meal.

            He wonders how with just a few soft syllables, a sheen of ease like the gloss of still water falls over Haru’s skin, how it suddenly _does feel okay._

            He wonders at the way _okay_ feels so nostalgic, at how long it has been since he has actually felt _okay._

            Haru stands, water clinging to his legs until the last moment before droplets are forced by their own small weight to fall back down into the tank where Makoto lives. He eyes his socks and sneakers but knows there is a pair of flip flops in the locker room, so he leaves the socks and shoes there and walks barefoot from the room, thinking that Makoto is probably watching him as he walks away, reading Makoto the Merman written in blue letters on his back.

            At the door, he stops, thinking to turn around, but then he pushes it open and descends the stairs to the locker room, grabbing his flip flops and making his way to the small aquarium food court. He takes the short cut his trainer showed him through the shark exhibit, watches a young girl take a picture of a shark in the tank beside her swimming by even though there is a NO PHOTOGRAPHY sign by the entrance.

            Haru doesn’t say anything to her.

            In the cafeteria, there is a line for the burger place, and Haru waits. He could probably get behind the counter and ask for fries for free, as an official aquarium staff request, but he’s not sure if this is allowed, and besides, only people with yellow shirts stand behind the counters.

            When it’s his turn, Haru orders French fries, pays for them with a swipe of his credit card, then heads back in the direction of Makoto’s exhibit, stopping in at the storage pantry where they keep his merman food, opening the freezer marked “SUSHI” and pulling out a tray, onto which he places the bag of fries.

            As he walks back up the staircase to the arena, Haru examines the other contents of the tray. There is a plate of sushi, three small containers with different sauces, and wooden chopsticks in a clear plastic wrapper.

            Haru doesn’t understand the chopsticks. He doubts mermen use chopsticks in the ocean to eat their food, but then, they probably don’t use plates or trays or containers with sauce choices either.

            Haru balances the tray against his ribs as he frees one hand to slide his M the M, FULL ACCESS card and let himself into the arena, where Makoto is swimming backstroke around the pool.

            His stroke is perfect, the form familiar, hands that stream out of the water with fingers tight and palms to the body, turning as they make their graceful arc back into the water where they sluice in the smallest ripples, fingers tight, palms away from the body.

            Haru has seen this stroke countless times before, and there is nothing different in Makoto’s execution of it but for, of course, the lower half of his body. A small fin erupts inches lower than his navel, just where the soft tan breaks to give way to a pearl white portion of smooth skin that is swallowed on both sides by a depthless, shiny black. The massive tail has to be over five feet on it’s own, and Haru knows Nagisa read something about it’s length from that information pamphlet, but he wasn’t really listening, he can’t remember.

            The tail ends, of course, in a curved Y-shape that slaps the water in swift beats that drum alongside Haru’s own heartbeat against his ears. He stands with his hands loosely curled around the edges of the tray, breathing in the smell of the quickly cooling French fries, and watches as Makoto makes one, two, three, four laps around the large pool, turning seamlessly to avoid the small flight of stairs where Haru had sat, and now walks to again, after the fifth lap is halfway completed.

            He kicks his flip flops off near his shoes and walks down two steps in his bare feet, the water rippling from Makoto’s strokes into waves that fall against and away from his shins in timid greetings and goodbyes.

            On the end of the fifth lap, Makoto’s entire body curls around, and Haru sees a flash of his dorsal fin before it’s submerged and the merman is again indistinguishable from a man with just his torso out of water, despite what appears to be an inky mass under his body, distorted by the surface of the water that separates the two species of his being.

            He swims closer to Haru, who holds the tray hesitantly, forgetting if he’s supposed to place it in the water or hand it to the merman, who is closer now, closer than ever; there is not glass between them and his hand is reaching out.

            “Thank you, Haru, and for the – _French_ ,” Makoto emphasizes the word with a quick smile, “fries, thank you.”

            Haru nods, and the tray is exchanged from Haru’s hands to Makoto’s, but the merman simply swims around the stairs and places the tray on the edge of the pool, a few feet from where Haru’s discarded flip flops and sneakers lay.

            Haru lets his feet skim the smooth surface of the first step as he walks to Makoto and sits a foot away from his tray on the edge of the pool.

            Makoto’s fingers fidget against the plastic wrapper around his chopsticks. He glances up at Haru, who is about to offer to open the wrapper for him, before the merman speaks.

            “Do you mind if – They showed me how to use chopsticks, and like when I use them, but – I’m, what’s the word…” Makoto pauses, his fingers tapping against each other, his gaze searching Haru’s in earnest.

            Haru stares back. He is so incredibly close to the merman now, and there is no glass between them, he keeps needing to remind himself of this – there is no glass between them.

            The exhales of Makoto’s breaths may be the inhales of Haru’s. The syllables of Makoto’s voice have no filter as they curl against Haru’s eardrums.

            “Clutz…No, clumsy, I’m clumsy with the chopsticks. I prefer – Is it okay? Not to use them? Our secret?” Makoto asks, and he is looking up at Haru even though he is clearly taller, not just because of his tail, but torso-wise, he easily has inches over Haru. But now he is looking up at Haru because Haru is sitting on the edge of the pool, and Makoto is lowered into the pool, and with his eyes in their heavy-lidded way, he reminds Haru of a puppy, peering and shy.

            Haru blinks, runs his fingers over his arms to stifle the tingling, worries Makoto will be able to tell that his pulse has escaped the confines of his veins and is jolting around, untamed, all over his body.

            “Of course,” he manages. “Of course you don’t have to use them. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind, the other staff members, if they knew you didn’t like them,” he continues, in a low rush of speech, wanting to comfort the merman but unsure that he is succeeding.

            The merman smiles gently back, and then it is he comforting Haru, and Haru thinks it should not be this way, wants to make Makoto feel the ease that those gentle smiles offer him, wonders how he might learn to do it too.

            “Oh, I know. They’re all incredibly nice, they’d never make me do anything I didn’t want. But I just, I like to make them happy,” Makoto says, shrugging, then peering into the paper bag and grinning widely at the French fries. “They’re warm,” he says, sticking a hand in.

            Haru watches as a few drops of water drip off his arm onto his tray. His arms are muscular, sinew straining at skin, and Haru has seen a hundred arms like this, doesn’t know why he can’t stop staring.

            “Here, Haru,” the merman is saying, and Haru is shaken from his staring, notices that Makoto is holding out a fry for him. “So my first one can be with you,” he says, looking at Haru earnestly, and Haru, who was going to refuse, instead reaches out to take the fry, careful not to let his fingers touch the merman’s.

            The water is no longer cool, lapping at Haru’s shins, but warm and familiar already, and he imagines being submerged.

            “Count to three, right? One, two, three,” Makoto says, holding his own fry, and together, they put their fries to their lips.

            Haru takes a bite, feels the crunch of it between his teeth, is not particularly fond of French fries but this one is delicious, warm and salty – _like ocean water._

            The immediate thrill of fear is interrupted before it can become anything more, short enough for Haru to deny, as Makoto is grinning.

            “Wow!” he says, happily, and Haru is amazed at his happiness again, how simply it comes, how beautifully it sits on his features that could be a human’s, there isn’t really a difference, Haru thinks, he can’t see any difference at all.

            Haru swallows and pops the last half of his fry between his lips, mostly because Makoto does it first. He chews slowly, watches Makoto’s tongue dart out and lick his fingers quickly, and he wants to laugh, but doesn’t.

            “Salty,” Makoto says. “I know why humans like them so much. Do you like French fries, Haru? What do you enjoy eating?”

            “Mackerel,” Haru says, without thinking, and Makoto brightens.

            “You like seafood too?”

            Haru draws a line on his jeans with his fingertip, offers more words to Makoto, likes that the merman is interested even though Haru usually hates questions, there is usually so much pressure behind them, but now there is nothing but light, nothing but this empty arena, nothing but the saltiness of his French fry lingering on his lips.

            “And I like to swim, too,” he admits. _Even though I haven’t liked it recently, even though it’s been a while since it felt the way it used to._

            Makoto watches Haru carefully as he eats another fry, and it seems to Haru like he’s waiting.

            “Your backstroke – The form is perfect. I swim freestyle,” Haru says, thinking about the paperwork for the Olympics, checking the _freestyle_ box, feeling trapped even before the race, feeling everything crumble even as he stood with his toes hooked over the edge of his starting block.

            “I’m not used to the surface of the water. In the ocean, we didn’t go near the surface.”

            _Why were you caught, Makoto? Why are you here?_

            “The surface, where water meets air, I like feeling it, the water against my back, catching me as if I’m falling from the sky, like a hand pulling me back home. Is that – Is that weird to say? In this language, it feels strange to say,” Makoto is saying, the skin between his eyebrows creased.

            Haru shakes his head. _I understand. I understand wanting to come back home, to a place of comfort, a place where you belong._

            “Why do you like freestyle, Haru?” Makoto asks, quietly, as if it is some secret.

            Haru looks away from him, at the water that hides Makoto’s tail.

            He likes to hide, his entire body, he likes when it is submerged, just colors masked by a blur of water, a trick of the light, might not be real, might not ever surface again.

            “Sometimes it feels like drowning,” Haru replies, doesn’t mean to, but there it is, and Haru looks up, worried, but Makoto is not looking away.

            Is not looking at Haru like he doesn’t understand.

            Is not looking at Haru like they are anything different, the way his friends sometimes look at him, the way Rin said he _sometimes wonders if Haru is human._

            “Haru, there is something – ”

            A bell rings, and Haru stares at the one beside him, but he isn’t ringing it, and besides, the ringing is coming from somewhere along the walls, and Haru looks up, around him.

            “Oh. That bell is for you, not me,” Makoto says, and Haru looks at him.

            “Why?” he asks, as he can’t remember his trainer saying anything about a bell.

            “I don’t know. Whenever it rings, the staff member leaves,” Makoto explains, and he doesn’t smile.

            Haru wishes the ringing would stop, but it doesn’t, so he stands.

            “Thank you, Haru,” Makoto says, as Haru slips on his flip flops and picks up his socks and sneakers.

            Haru doesn’t think he’s just talking about the food. He stops on his way to the exit and glances back.

            “See you later, Makoto,” he says, and then the merman is smiling again, and Haru’s pulse is fast once more, prickling and tingling and – Haru thinks – wonderful.

*

After having to watch several obligatory training videos and filling out papers, Haru is sent home from his first day of work. He thinks about visiting Makoto with his M the M, FULL ACCESS key card, but he doesn’t know that Makoto will still be at the surface of his tank, and if he’s not, Haru still doesn’t think he’ll be able to ring that bell.

            It is just after he gets back home and is pulling off his green t-shirt that Haru’s phone rings, and he finishes pulling his t-shirt off before answering, forgetting to look at the caller ID, not that it matters much.

            “Haru! It’s Nagisa!” Nagisa shouts, voice pouring fully through the phone.

            “Hey,” Haru says, holding the phone the usual inch away from his ear as he must do whenever Nagisa calls him.

            “Come over, it’s an emergency!” Nagisa says.

            Haru does not panic, as he is well aware that he is talking to Nagisa. “What happened, Nagisa?”

            “I stepped on Rei’s glasses,” Nagisa admits, voice hushed.

            Haru opens his freezer and glances at the packets of mackerel.

            “On purpose?” he asks because the suspicion is there, and Haru is not just going to ignore it.

            “Of course not! I love Rei’s glasses! It was an accident, and he can’t find out because I also threw out all his contact lenses.”

            “Nagisa,” Haru sighs, setting a packet of mackerel on his counter and turning on the stove, on which his frying pan already sits, waiting.

            “The contacts were on purpose – But I had to! They were driving me insane! I didn’t think they’d last more than a few weeks, but _months,_ Haru, it’s been _months!_ We all thought Rei was smart, but maybe it was all an illusion, like a magic trick, you know, because how can someone so smart make himself wear things that…”

            Haru places the phone on the counter as he prepares his dinner, knowing Nagisa will talk himself out in his own time and leave no space for Haru to speak anyway.

            When his mackerel is sizzling, Haru picks up the phone again to receive the last of Nagisa’s spiel.

            “…and Isaac Newton did that apple thing, of course, so we all know how that will end up,” Nagisa finishes, in flourish, as usual.

            “You shouldn’t have thrown out his contacts,” Haru says.

            “But Rin told me they were irritating Rei, so I couldn’t just let – ”

            “And I don’t know how to fix glasses. Go to a glasses store,” Haru interrupts, grabbing a plate and tilting the contents of his pan onto it.

            “That’s why I need you! Because I’m at Rei’s right now, I’m in his bathroom talking to you, Rei thinks I’m taking a poo, because I told him I was, and anyway, I just flushed the contacts and took a step and _crack_ , and Rei just told me earlier today that he was going to have to change his contacts cause he thinks he’s ripped the ones he’s wearing now, probably cause he’s rubbing them so much, and – ”

            “You can still take the glasses to the store yourself. Just put them in your pocket so he doesn’t see you leaving with them,” Haru says, taking a bite of mackerel, but it isn’t quite salty enough, so he gets up from his counter and rummages in his cabinet.

            “I can’t leave though! You need to come over, and I’ll lower them to you through the bathroom window!” Nagisa hisses.

            “Why can’t you leave?”

            “Because I can’t, Haru!” Nagisa says, as Haru sprinkles salt onto his fish.

            As he places the shaker on the counter, it falls on its side, and a bit of salt spills out. Haru rights the shaker, then, after a beat of hesitation, dips his finger into the salt and presses it to his lips.

            It tastes of French fries, and he thinks of Makoto’s wonderment.

            “Well, I can’t come over,” Haru replies.

            “Haru, please! You have to, please, it’s an emergency, I promise! I – I can’t go, I can’t explain it, but I can’t leave, you have to trust me, please, Haru,” Nagisa begs, and even though Haru is used to his dramatics, there is something strained in his voice that makes Haru rest his fork on his plate and consider.

            “Nagisa…”

            “Please, Haru,” Nagisa whispers, now. “I don’t want him to know I broke them. Especially not now,” he says, and the desperation is clear now.

            Haru nods to his empty house, then says on the phone, “Okay, I’ll come.”

            “Thank you,” Nagisa gushes. “I’ll lower them onto the grass outside Rei’s bathroom window, thank you so much, Haru, thank you.”

            Haru is about to hang up, but pauses, the words on the edge of his lips, _Are you okay, Nagisa?_ but then he shakes his head, and he does hang up.

            His mackerel is mostly uneaten; Haru leaves it on the counter as he grabs a t-shirt – not the Makoto the Merman one, but a plain white one, and leaves his apartment.

*

It is after Haru has picked up the crushed glasses, taken them to get fixed, returned them to the grass outside Rei’s bathroom window without Rei noticing, and walked back home that he sees Rin outside his apartment building, pressing the button to be buzzed in.

            “Rin,” Haru says, and his friend turns around.

            “Oh, that’s why you weren’t answering. Where were you?”

            “Rei’s,” Haru replies, and Rin rolls his eyes.

            “Yeah, Nagisa called me. Can’t believe you gave in.”

            Haru shrugs. _He sounded like he really needed me. He sounded scared._

            “Wanna come up?” Haru says, about to let himself in, but Rin shakes his head.

            “Can we walk?” he asks, and Haru is exhausted from a day of watching training videos and running around fixing glasses, but he shrugs and steps away from the door.

            They walk in a silence long enough for Haru to note the way the sky looks stuffed with too many clouds before Rin breaks it and speaks.

            “Are you doing the next Olympics?” Rin asks, and Haru stares at him.

            “No,” he says, surprised, as he thought it was obvious.

            “Maybe you should.”

            “I don’t want to.”

            “Well, why not?” Rin asks, an edge to his voice.

            “You know why not,” Haru replies, not wanting to talk about this, not now when the sky is so full it looks like it’s about to burst, and Haru doesn’t want to be outside when it does.

            “No, I don’t, actually, because you won’t talk about what happened last Olympics.”

            Haru doesn’t say anything.

            “Haru, come on. Help me out here,” Rin sighs.

            “There’s nothing to say,” Haru says. He went to the pool two days before, overswam again until even one more stroke became impossible, waited for something to change, for the water to accept him as it used to, but it didn’t, it wouldn’t.

            “There’s always something to say! Pretend I’m the freaking whale guy, I bet you’d tell him, wouldn’t you? What is going on with you? For months you’ve been – It’s like you’ve been – I mean, do you want to talk to someone? Do you think that would help?”

            _Orca, he’s part orca, not whale._ “Talk to who?” Haru asks, but he thinks he knows because he overheard Rei and Rin talking about a therapist a week or so before, how they expected refusal at first but maybe if they kept at it, Haru would agree, would see that it was best for him.

            “Come on, Haru,” Rin says again, another sigh.

            _Come on, Haru._

_Come on, Haru._

_Come on, Haru!_

            “I’m tired, Rin. I’m turning back,” Haru says, because he can get exasperated too, he can have enough of it all too, it’s not just his friends who are worried, it’s not just his friends who care.

            Rin grabs his sleeve as Haru turns. “Nanase. Let’s race,” he asks, and he stares at Haru in a way that’s so hopeful Haru has to look away. “Like we used to,” Rin adds quietly, but it’s unnecessary, because Haru remembers.

            Of course he remembers.

            “I can’t,” Haru manages, and Rin’s hand falls from his sleeve, so Haru walks away.

            The sky bursts on his way home, and Haru walks into his building dripping wet, as if he’d been drowned.

*

Haru is breathing heavily, back hunched and elbows on his knees, sitting on the edge of the pool, when the pool door opens.

            He does not turn, as there are not many people who have copies of the keys, nicked and copied years ago from the pool janitor by Nagisa.

            “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be here,” says a voice Haru did not altogether expect, and he looks to his left only when Sousuke sits beside him, letting his feet dip into the water.

            “Sousuke,” Haru says, in greeting, hoping his breathing isn’t too loud.

            “I can leave if you’d like,” Sousuke offers.

            “Why would I want you to leave?” Haru asks.

            Sousuke leans back on his palms. “You’re obviously working some stuff out. That’s fine. I understand that.”

            The implied _unlike Rin,_ is obvious.

            “You shouldn’t be swimming,” Haru says, to avoid talking about himself.

            Sousuke looks surprised. “You’ve never said anything before. I mean, Rei and Ai have given me plenty of lectures, but you,” he shakes his head, “I didn’t expect that.”

            Haru watches Sousuke carefully. “Damaging your body when you don’t have to is foolish,” he says finally.

            Sousuke straightens up, leans closer to Haru. “So you’re telling me if you had a fucked up shoulder, you’d quit swimming altogether, just like that?” he asks, and it’s masked as a challenge, but Haru can see the desperation, the way his jaw works after the question is out and hanging in the air between them.

            Haru answers without hesitation. “If it was as bad as yours, yes. I’d stop,” he says, and he is aware that if Rin finds out Haru said it, he’d be pissed, but what does Rin know?

            It’s not giving up. It’s accepting. It’s stopping the pain.

            Sousuke clenches his jaw once more, then looks away from Haru, exhaling slowly. “Oh,” he says, as if he’s deflated, as if he’s disappointed.

            Haru knows he needed to hear another answer, but that is the only answer Haru has.

            _Swimming isn’t everything. It can’t be everything – It just can’t be._

            Haru looks away from Sousuke’s profile, at the soft dancing shadows of the pool’s surface hopping along the walls. The lights are out, but the pool isn’t dark – not even near the darkness of the aquarium – as the lights from inside the pool emanate out in dazzling sky blue scribbles.

            “I wasn’t going to swim,” Sousuke says quietly, to the expectant chlorine-scented air. “I just wanted to come here and – I don’t know, maybe get in the pool, do some water aerobics or something – Fucking water aerobics.” Sousuke’s exhale is tinted by harsh laughter, like it’s being forced out, like nothing is funny.

            And it’s true, nothing is funny.

            Haru doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. There’s nothing he could say.

            “And it’s not like I’m pissed at you. I mean, it’s not fair for me to be angry at you. You didn’t ask for me to be injured. But – Haru – you’re, what are you doing? You’re breathing too hard, you look like a wreck – You’re doing what I did. Shit, you know what I did, you know what it did to me, why are you – Are you trying to – ?”

            Haru kicks his feet in the water, and his muscles ache from just the simple gesture.

            “I’m not trying to injure myself,” he says, to his feet.

            “Then you’ve got to stop doing this. Rin says you’re not interested in the next Olympics – So why are you pushing yourself so hard? Don’t you know how stupid this is? I mean, I’m a fucking walking example, how can you not know how stupid this is?” Sousuke says – no, he’s shouting now, his voice rising to echo in the large room in the way voices can echo only in pools, in that hollow way, that haunted way.

            Haru waits until every shallow echo of Sousuke’s shout fades, but even then, he does not reply.

            It is Sousuke, who speaks first.

            “I’m sorry. I’m angry, but not at you, I’m just – I’m angry. I’m still angry,” he says, and Haru can tell it’s through clenched teeth, stiff and clipped.

            Haru turns to see Sousuke’s face in his hands, so he turns away again, allows Sousuke to be alone the way Sousuke offered him.

            It is five minutes or so, before Sousuke speaks again.

            “And to top it off,” he says, laughing lightly in that same nothing’s-funny way, “I can’t fucking stop being in love with my best friend.”

            Haru turns to stare at him, but Sousuke isn’t looking at Haru, and Haru can see the dazzling sky blue scribbles of the pool reflected on his hopeless expression, dancing merrily as though nothing is wrong.

*


	4. Chapter 4

Nagisa insisted on a viewing party for the first airtime of the commercial whose slogan he wrote all on his own, and as his apartment is much too small, he also insisted the viewing party be at Rin, Ai, Sousuke, and Momo’s place.

            Even with Momo still at his parents’ house, the house is still much too small for Rin, Ai, Sousuke, Rei, Haru, and Nagisa, but Nagisa doesn’t seem to notice this, as he is beside himself with excitement, bouncing around the room and making sure everyone has enough popcorn and drinks.

            “You’d think he’d bought the popcorn, the way he’s going around handing it out,” Rin complains, but Haru can hardly turn to look at him, as he is squeezed onto the sofa in their small living room so close to him that it seems impossible to move.

            Also squeezed on the couch is Sousuke, who sits on the other side of Rin; Rei, who sits on the other side of Haru; and Ai, who sits on the end next to Rei.

            Rei is wearing his glasses again, Haru noticed, and he also noticed Rei won’t quite look at Nagisa, and Nagisa won’t quite look at Rei, but Haru isn’t sure if he’s just imagining this not-looking-at-each-other ordeal, and it’s hard to check now what with his inability to move.

            “Okay, everyone settled?” Nagisa asks, bouncing back into the room with the remote control in his hand. “Wait, where am I supposed to sit?” he says, pouting, looking across all of them, but as Haru watches him, he notes that his eyes seem to jump over Rei.

            “Just put it on, Nagisa,” Rin sighs, shifting so that his elbow digs hard into Haru’s side.

            “Move your elbow, Matsuoka,” Haru says.

            “I would if I could, Nanase,” Rin replies coolly.

            “No fighting during my commercial!” Nagisa shouts, even though, technically, it isn’t his commercial, it’s just his slogan, but still, Haru is proud of him, and knows his friends are too.

            It was a surprise to everyone when Nagisa went into the advertising business, but he turned out to have quite a knack for it – at least, for coming up with catchy rhymes.

            Rei says nothing, and Haru largely wants to look at him, but when he shifts, Rin’s elbow digs even deeper into his ribcage, and he’s forced to stop with a sigh.

            “No sighing during my commercial!” Nagisa yells.

            “Nagisa, why don’t you just put it on?” Ai asks, softly, as if talking to a rabid animal, and Nagisa flashes him a smile before clicking the remote.

            “The network is ESPN, so we might have to suffer through basketball before we see it,” Nagisa says, coming to sit against Haru’s legs on the floor, which is bizarre for the mere fact that it’s not Rei’s legs he’s sitting against.

            They suffer through a few minutes of basketball as Nagisa predicted, and then there’s a commercial break, and Nagisa is absolutely vibrating against Haru’s shins.

            “It’s this one!” Nagisa shouts, after they watch a chip commercial where a girl is pelted by potatoes, and Haru isn’t really sure he understood the selling point and hopes Nagisa’s commercial is somewhat more successful.

            Nagisa’s commercial is for toothpaste, and starts with the track “You Are My Sunshine” playing while a good-looking young man and woman are shown asleep in bed, the sun shifting through slats of their blinds. The man wakes first, glances at the woman, tucks strands of her hair behind her ear, then tiptoes out of bed and to the bathroom in a t-shirt and boxers.

            In the bathroom, he looks in the mirror for a few seconds, then begins brushing his teeth, then ruffles his hair in an attempt to make it lie flat, then sighs, then smiles reluctantly – with perfectly white teeth, of course.

            He returns to the bedroom, climbs back in bed – carefully, so as not to wake the woman, who is still asleep – and kisses her at the very corner of her mouth.

            “You Are My Sunshine” becomes louder, and the sunlight creeping through the window brightens until the entire screen is white, and a tube of Crest toothpaste appears in the middle, under which words in black appear: _Crest – Because every kiss should be the best._

            And the commercial ends, giving way for a loud ad about some Wild West-themed restaurant.

            Nagisa is still against Haru’s legs, then turns tentatively, looking at each of them (except Rei – it’s undeniable now) with wide eyes. “Um, well?” he asks, voice much quieter than usual.

            “Nagisa, damn, that was good,” Rin says first, breaking the silence, and Nagisa’s smile is immediately wider and brighter than that of the guy in the commercial.

            “Really, I liked that a lot!” Ai adds, and then everyone is complimenting Nagisa’s slogan-writing skills, except for, completely noticeably, Rei.

            Sousuke escapes the couch first, and then Rin gets up to stretch, leaving Haru standing while he rubs his sore side, but he keeps a watch on Rei and Nagisa, who still won’t quite look at each other.

            Rei stands, and so does Nagisa, both moving stiffly.

            “That was,” Rei clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, his gaze a little too low to be on Nagisa’s face, not that it would matter, as Nagisa is staring at his shoes, “a very nice job, Nagisa.”

            Rei clears his throat again, then looks up, probably noticing that the rest of the room has gone silent, as he flushes immediately, and Rin says loudly – “Everyone better clean up the popcorn they spilt, cause I’m not a freaking maid,” which allows Rei a chance to practically run to the kitchen.

            Haru watches Nagisa shove his hands in his pockets and bite his lip, but he doesn’t follow Rei, and he doesn’t look nearly as happy as he did a few seconds before, his grin nowhere to be found.

            Haru looks over at Rin, who raises his eyebrows at him and nods his chin to the kitchen, then again to Nagisa, so Haru takes his cue and goes to see what’s up with Rei, knowing Rin will interrogate Nagisa in the living room.

            Rei is washing his popcorn bowl in the sink, the faucet on higher than it probably needs to be.

            Haru stands next to Rei and holds out his hand, and Rei finishes washing the soap off the bowl so he can hand it to Haru to dry.

            Haru doesn’t say anything. There’s no need to – Rei has to know what he would ask.

            “It’s nothing,” Rei says quickly, after the silence stretches to half a minute.

            Haru places the bowl in its appropriate cupboard and glances at Rei to see his face is even redder.

            He has a feeling this is more than just Nagisa throwing out Rei’s contacts.

            “Has he – Has he said anything to you about – Anything? Nagisa, I mean, of course, I am referring to Nagisa,” Rei asks, fumbling with his glasses, which he takes off to wipe on the edge of his shirt – probably, Haru thinks, to have an excuse not to look at him.

            “No,” Haru replies.

            “Right,” Rei mumbles, replacing his glasses and clasping his hands. “Well,” he says stiffly, and he nods formally at Haru before walking quickly out of the kitchen.

            Haru watches him leave, listens to the front door opening and closing, then walks back to the living room, leaning on the doorway and watching as Nagisa stands tight-lipped with his arms straight at his sides and hands in fists, not quite looking at Rin, who is talking to him.

            “…and I’m sure whatever it is will, I mean, you know, you guys fight all the time, so it’s probably just, umm,” Rin mutters, looking behind him at Sousuke in a pleading way, but it’s Ai who steps up.

            “Can’t you just give us a hint about what happened? Maybe there’s something we can do to help? I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding, if you really think Rei is upset with you,” Ai says, gently, with Rin nodding full force like a bobble head.

            Haru, from the doorway, glances at Sousuke, who stands a few feet behind Rin, head turned to look at not Nagisa, but Rin.

            Haru never knew how he felt, before Sousuke’s confession two nights before, and he doesn’t think that’s a good thing – that he never knew such a huge truth about his own friend. Shouldn’t he have known?

            Haru wonders what Sousuke feels, when he stands so close to Rin and cannot do anything about what he feels. Cannot change it. Cannot even step closer, maybe because he’s terrified.

            Haru wonders if Sousuke can feel his pulse every time Rin is in the room, if it tingles under his skin, if it prickles over his flesh, if just a smile suddenly becomes a temperature, cool and then warm and then everywhere.

            “He’s not upset with me, I don’t think,” Nagisa is saying, voice quiet, like a child’s, and Haru has to remind himself that they are not children anymore.

            They’re becoming adults, things are changing, it seemed that just a few weeks ago everything was the same, but now it’s not, now nothing is.

            “Are you upset with him?” Ai offers, and Rin nods again in a way he probably imagines is encouraging.

            Nagisa shakes his head violently, and Haru watches his fists tighten.

            _Stop it,_ Haru wants to tell his friends. _Leave him alone!_

            Haru thinks he knows what’s wrong. Not the specifics, of course, but what matters.

            He thinks he’s seen Nagisa’s face before, he thinks he’s seen fingers so tightly wound into a fist before, he thinks he knows the way Nagisa looks up at him, catches his eye with a gaze that is unsure and terrified.

            He thinks Nagisa feels the same way he does – As though he does not belong where he once did for so long, where he thought he would belong forever.

            As though he cannot swim, yet he has realized he is not in fact drowning, but choking, head above the water but barely there, sea salty and warm in his throat, daggers at his windpipe, knives against his lungs, and he cannot breathe but cannot sink, cannot move.

            Nagisa blinks quickly, breaking his and Haru’s gaze, and his eyes shine, and he’s shrugging off the hand Ai reaches out to his shoulder with a murmured apology before walking quickly to the front door and leaving as well.

            Haru watches the front door close, then looks back into the living room at the faces of his helpless friends.

            “What the hell is going on with everyone?” Rin shouts, after a few seconds of silence, throwing his hands in the air, but the only answer to his question is the tune of “You Are My Sunshine,” tinkling cheerily out of the TV, which was never turned off, and they all turn to watch Nagisa’s commercial play again.

*

The next day, Makoto asks for a surprise, something sweet, so Haru brings him a cinnamon sugar soft pretzel, and watches in fascination as Makoto laughs at the sticky sugar coating his fingertips.

            “It’s getting in the tank,” he laughs, looking at Haru helplessly, and Haru is unable to do anything but stare back and hope his heartbeat does not create small waves in the tank, as he sits again with his feet in the water.

            The last two days, he spent every moment possible with Makoto. He visits the merman hours before he clocks in to start his shifts, he stays long past the time he clocks out. His M the M, FULL ACCESS key card works around the clock, Haru has noted, so he has grown used to the arena, his green Makoto the Merman shirt, the way his jeans persistently get wet no matter how many times he folds over their cuffs.

            He has not, however, gotten used to the merman himself, but he doesn’t think he wants to, he doesn’t mind the prickling feeling, the feeling of Makoto’s voice, the way he cannot process those smiles or comprehend Makoto’s happiness.

            “There is something wrong today,” Makoto says, suddenly, placing the napkins Haru handed him along the side of the pool.

            Haru looks at him. _What is it, Makoto?_

            Makoto is watching Haru carefully, and Haru doesn’t know what to do under the green gaze, so earnest and pivotal and solely devoted to Haru and _human._

            “Not just today, but today, I think, it has gotten worse. Haru? If you want, you can tell me,” Makoto offers, and Haru realizes there is nothing wrong with Makoto.

            Makoto is concerned for him.

            Haru stares at him, eyes wide, opens his lips and inhales and holds the breath behind his teeth because he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to say it.

            Makoto looks at Haru in a way he can feel, streaks of heat over his face every place the merman’s eyes fall, from his eyes to his lips to everywhere.

            “Maybe… Will you swim with me, Haru?” Makoto asks, nodding slightly.

            _It’s okay, Haru. It can be okay again._

            Haru looks down into the water where it masks Makoto’s tail, reminds himself of its existence in the shapeless black, then looks back up and nods.

            _Okay, Makoto._

            He stands and peels off his Makoto the Merman shirt, then unbuttons his jeans. He hasn’t worn his swimsuit underneath his pants in a while, but his boxers are just plain blue that day, which, at the very least, isn’t embarrassing.

            He throws his clothing beside his flip flops and descends the steps into the pool, feeling the water sluice around him familiarly.

            It is not quite cool even though Haru brought up the issue of temperature to his manager the day before, reminding his manager that Makoto the Merman likes chilled water, and his manager agreed, said something would be done about it.

            There is no shallow end, as this is a tank, not an actual pool, and there are only five steps for the staff members, the drop off after which plummets. Haru is prepared, allows himself to step off the fifth step into the depth of the tank and sink, closing his eyes and letting the water crawl up his thighs and waist and chest and shoulders and neck and chin and nose and eyes and then he’s submerged completely.

            He does not kick up nor move his arms, but opens his eyes, and in front of him is Makoto, who faces him underwater.

            His hair is fluffy again, fluttering lightly around his head, brushing over his eyes to hide his gaze, drifting back away to show his green eyes are bright and skating over Haru’s body.

            Haru allows himself to examine the merman’s body as well. Makoto is nearly vertical, and Haru looks at him slowly, from his face to his neck to his shoulders to his chest to his abs to his navel to where he is no longer human, the white section of his tail slowly giving way to pitch black, the silkiness of it, the size, almost foreboding, almost terrifying, the end of his tail swishing gently in the water below him.

            Haru can feel himself naturally floating back up to the surface, and lifts his arms above his head, cups his hands and pushes his arms swiftly down, projecting himself to break the surface of the water where he breathes deeply, though underwater, he had easily forgotten oxygen was necessary, as he often does.

            He has come to suspect that maybe it is not. Maybe, if he never took a breath, he would not die. Maybe it is all a lie, and he only needs the courage to test it.

            Makoto surfaces a second later, and Haru treads water easily, blinks drops of water from his eyelashes at the merman.

            “Watching you in water – You are as natural as me,” Makoto says, laughing.

            “I swam in the Olympics,” Haru admits, an accidental gush of words.

            Makoto tilts his head. “I know. They let me watch you. On television. You won every race, Nanase Haruka,” the merman says.

            Haru inhales slowly. He wishes he were still underwater. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

            “I recognized you immediately,” Makoto admits quietly.

            “From the Olympics,” Haru says dryly.

            Makoto’s eyes narrows, a crease appearing between them, but then he shakes his head and looks away.

            Haru doesn’t understand. Makoto seemed confused by Haru’s statement. He seemed like he was about to disagree, and Haru is about to ask again, to ask the impossible that he has not allowed himself to ask despite first suspecting it, _You recognized me from the Olympics, right? Or – when you saw me on television – is that when you recognized me?_

_Makoto, tell me, when was the first time we met?_

            But Makoto speaks first, looking again at Haru, his small smile back, but it doesn’t reach his droopy eyes. “Will you teach me your freestyle, Haru?” he asks, and Haru finds himself nodding, happy he was not given a chance to ask his questions.

            He does not want to talk anymore.

            For the first time in a long time, Haru just wants to swim.

*

When his muscles start to cramp – it’s only been two days since he overswam again, after all – Haru pretends not to notice.

            The water has opened back up to him, for the first time since the Olympics, and Haru can’t stop swimming, won’t stop swimming, not now, not ever.

            Swimming next to Makoto is more frightening than Haru anticipated. He instructs Makoto on the strokes, offers a demonstration, closes his eyes and laps the pool, one lap, two laps, on the third lap the water is the temperature of his blood, or his blood is the temperature of the water, or one has ceased to exist and they are both the same and Haru is smiling into his next stroke.

            On the fourth lap, he stops, turns to Makoto for questions, and Makoto does nothing but stare, then smiles lightly, says, “No, Haru, I have no questions,” so Haru focuses on catching his breath – not lost from his laps, as there were only four, no, it wasn’t the laps – then nods and asks Makoto if he’d like to try.

            Makoto swims slowly, but he has been perfecting his backstroke, and keeps attempting to rotate his palms mid-air out of habit, so Haru stops him, shows him his error, and they swim next to each other.

            Haru is too aware of Makoto’s tail. It is the tail of an animal. A large animal, at that, massive and threatening, a dark mass inching up on Haru out of the corner of his eye as he swims.

            He concentrates on the human portion of Makoto that is constantly beside him. Though the merman’s tail has more force than the kick of Haru’s legs, his stroke is slower, so combined, they both swim at relatively the same pace.

            Haru does not ask Makoto to race, and Makoto does not ask Haru to race, and Haru is so relieved by this, so happy for this.

            They swim for hours, but it feels like days, it feels like seconds, it feels like time does not exist, like there is no clock to tell Haru when he must leave, that life is anything but underwater in this pool that is really a tank beside this man that is really a merman.

            When the ache starts, Haru hardly notices, kicks it off his legs like it is a bug that can be shooed, lengthens his strokes, feels the pull of water against his cupped palms, the way it breaks to let his body through.

            It is how swimming felt, before everything changed. He belongs in this water, and an ache in his joints will not stop him, will not make him leave.

            Time does not exist. The world does not exist.

            When Makoto touches his arm, the world falls back with a thump, a shock through Haru’s body; remembrance of time and place is sudden and disorienting, and he stops swimming, lifts his head to see Makoto beside him, a crease between his eyebrows.

            “What’s wrong, Haru?” Makoto asks, and Haru stares at him, confused.

            _Nothing is wrong, Makoto. Swimming beside you – finally, nothing is wrong._

            “Your swimming slowed. You were…what’s the word…wincing? Are you hurt?” he asks, pushing his hair up out of his eyes with his large hands.

            Haru watches the brown hair slick back, though small clumps of it fall back over his forehead, droplets of water dripping from the ends and falling down into the pool.

            “My muscles are sore from swimming too much the other day,” Haru replies, licking his lips. “I’m fine.”

            “Why did you swim too much the other day?” Makoto asks.

            Makoto looks at Haru like the world still does not exist, like there is still just the two of them even though now, Haru remembers, the rest of life is waiting. There are the high white walls of the arena, there are the steps Haru climbed down, there are Haru’s flip flops and his jeans and his green Makoto the Merman t-shirt and Makoto’s crumpled napkins discarded at the side of the pool, there is the rest of the aquarium around the arena, there is the tank that they swim in, leading down into the dark room where Haru first saw Makoto the Merman staring at him like he knew him, like they’d met before.

            But Makoto looks at Haru now like there is none of that. Like there is only Haru, and Haru doesn’t know what to do with such a look, doesn’t know what to do with the way it feels, the prickling feeling and the tingling feeling and the burning feeling and the way smiles become temperatures and looks become something more than just looks when Makoto the Merman is involved.

            He doesn’t know what to do because he’s starting to suspect something, and what he suspects is that Makoto the Merman understands him in a way no human ever has, and what does that say?

            What does that say about Makoto the Merman?

            What does that say about Haru the Human?

            Haru turns away, but he knows Makoto is still looking at him.

            _I swam too much the other day because I was trying to feel the way I feel swimming next to you. I was trying to belong again. I was trying to feel right again._

            “Haru, I think you should know… I – ”

            Haru looks at Makoto, but the merman isn’t looking at him anymore, he’s looking down at the water between them.

            Haru looks down at it too, sees the blurry shapes of colors that he cannot distinguish, but it doesn’t matter what the water masks, it makes no difference what the water distorts.

            He knows that under it are his legs, he knows that under it is Makoto’s tail, he knows this no matter how the water feels, no matter what the water pretends.

            “I really want you to be safe,” Makoto finally says, quietly, and Haru squints at the water between them, confused by the unexpectedness of the statement, but also the familiarity.

            _Be safe, Haru._

_Please be safe, Nanase Haruka._

            Haru’s legs stop moving, and it must be a cramp from overworking his muscles, that’s the only explanation, but Haru knows what cramps feel like, and this doesn’t match up.

            He cannot move, and he thinks it’s fear, he thinks he’s suffocating, he’s sinking into the water, and he accidentally inhales, a quick gasp, water flooding in his lungs – _salty and warm and the spray is sharp against his face, then it’s gone, knives against his windpipe, constricting of his lungs, limbs tumbling over torso as the undertow wraps around his wrists and ankles and pulls him, pulls him, won’t let go –_

            “Haru, can you hear me? Haru? Are you okay?”

            Haru blinks, the arena coming back into focus, Makoto’s face in front of him coming into focus, his concerned gaze coming into focus, and he’s seen it before, _he’s seen it before._

            He is not drowning. His legs are not cramped or anything else – they are treading water, and he is breathing normally, and Makoto is looking at him in concern, and Haru rationalizes he must have fallen asleep for the quickest of moments, not even long enough for him to stop treading water, or just zoned out – he’s been known to zone out, his friends have pointed this out to him, that he’s often _in his own world._

            In his own world, Haru thinks, is a lonely place to be, a world all to himself, and he doesn’t want to get stuck there anymore, he doesn’t want to be trapped there, he feels himself being pulled back and he wants to swim up to the surface, but he can’t find figure out which way the surface is, it’s dark on all sides, pitch black on all sides, a depthless black – like the black of an orca’s tail, for instance.

            “Yeah, sorry, I – ” Haru shakes his head, breathes deeply, and even though it’s just air he swears he can feel the knives at his windpipe, the constricting of his lungs. “Sorry,” he repeats.

            Makoto nods, and the bell rings – it’s Haru’s bell, the bell that means he must leave Makoto so that the arena can be locked down for the night, so Haru swims to the stairs, walks up the steps, pulls on his clothing, steps into his flip flops, picks up Makoto’s napkins to throw out.

            “Thank you for today, Haru,” Makoto says, and his voice is quiet because he has not moved from the middle of the pool.

            Haru nods.

            _Thank you for every day, Makoto._

*


	5. Chapter 5

There are protesters outside the aquarium, when Haru walks out.

            He doesn’t read their picket signs, but he hears their chants.

            _Free him or cage yourselves! Free him or cage yourselves! Free him or cage yourselves!_

            He zips his jacket up over his green t-shirt, pulls up the hood. He feels a hard splat against his shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking to his car.

            Only when he’s back on the main road does Haru look to see that he was hit by an egg. He is not angry.

            He does not know if he deserves it or not.

            He thinks he might.

            At home, he throws his jacket into the laundry machine before listening to the messages left on his home phone, one of which is from Nagisa.

            “Can you come over around ten?” is all it says, and Haru listens to it two more times, wondering if the message was cut off because he can’t remember the last time Nagisa sent him a message under ten minutes long.

            He calls Nagisa back, but receives no answer, so he changes out of his Makoto the Merman shirt and calls Rin, deciding as he dials that he will take his car. He could walk, but he has a feeling there might not be time for that.

            “Did Nagisa call you?” he says, when Rin picks up.

            “What? Oh, yeah, I’m at his place now, but he won’t talk till you get here. Where have you been? I texted you a million times.”

            Haru checks his pockets for his cellphone, but it’s missing, along with his wallet, and he realizes they must have fallen out of his pocket when he took off his jeans in the arena.

            “I left my phone at – I lost it,” he says. “I’m on my way now, is everything okay?”

            “Dunno, I’m telling you, he won’t say anything, so hurry up, will you?” Rin says, and Haru nods.

            “Yeah, tell him I’m coming, tell him I’ll be there,” Haru says, and there’s a click, Rin hanging up on him.

            The drive is short, but feels long, and Haru parks in front of Nagisa’s apartment building, gets out, walks up to the front door and is buzzed in immediately.

            Nagisa’s door is open a crack, so Haru lets himself in and closes it behind him, finds Rin and Nagisa in the small kitchen – Rin sitting at the counter and Nagisa staring at a kettle of tea on the stove.

            “Hey,” Rin says, when Haru walks in. “Where have you been?”

            Haru doesn’t answer, turns to Nagisa instead. “Nagisa, what is going on?” he asks.

            Nagisa looks up from the kettle, from Haru to Rin, looks back at the kettle, looks up again at neither of them and speaks to the wall across the room.

            “Rei and I had sex,” he says, voice completely monotone, but the monotone breaks as he starts his next sentence. “Please don’t be mad,” he whispers.

            There’s the smallest silence, before – “Nagisa, what – Why would we be mad?” Rin asks, and Haru goes to sit beside him at the counter. “Is this why you’ve been acting so strangely? You’re worried we won’t, I don’t know, approve? That’s so, I mean, that’s kind of stupid, Hazuki, even for you.”

            Nagisa does not smile. He glances at Rin in a desperate way, but says nothing.

            “Nagisa, why would we be mad?” Haru asks again, more gently than Rin.

            Nagisa shakes his head. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I knew you wouldn’t be but I thought you might be, and I don’t know,” he says, helplessly. “Because we’re all friends, and now we’re, I don’t know, I think I’ve done something wrong, I’ve messed it up, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, but it did – ”

            “Hey, just – ” Rin starts, sounding angry, but Haru interrupts.

            “Breathe, Nagisa,” he says sternly, and Nagisa stops rambling, stares at Haru with wide eyes, and Haru nods encouragingly. “Just take a few breaths, and then you will tell us what happened. Okay?”

            Nagisa nods, and Haru is aware of Rin staring at him, but doesn’t look away from Nagisa.

            After half a minute, Nagisa has calmed, deflates and leans against the counter across from Rin and Haru.

            “It was a few days ago. When I broke Rei’s glasses. I’d gone over because he asked me if I’d tell him what I thought of this new project thing he was proposing to his boss, but when I was there he kept rubbing at his contacts, and I asked him why he was wearing them, and he got all flustered and cute like he does and said no reason, and I said I missed his glasses, that he was always so cute in his glasses, and he said not to call him cute, he was a grown man, and I said grown man or not, he was still cute, and I’d always think that, and we started arguing the way we always do, and then we were kissing, I don’t know, it just happened, and then we had sex,” Nagisa says, all in one breath, and he stops to inhale.

            Rin starts to say something, but Haru kicks him, shakes his head, knowing that Nagisa isn’t done and they have to let him finish or else he never will.

            Nagisa takes another deep breath. “I had to pee after, and I stepped on his glasses on the way to the bathroom – we must have knocked them off his desk while we were – well, yeah – but I couldn’t leave because then he’d wonder why I left right after we had sex, which is why I called you guys, and then I came back to the room, and Rei was sitting up and he had his clothes back on and he wasn’t looking at me and I didn’t know what to say because I had so much to say, so I just didn’t say anything.”

            “And then what?” Rin asks, and Haru peers at him, sees he’s leaning across the counter, watching Nagisa intently.

            Nagisa shakes his head, and his fingers are shaking on the counter where he spreads out his hands, flat.

            “I didn’t know what to say because I had so much to say,” Nagisa says again, his fingers curling into fists on the counter now. “I love him so much. I’ve loved him forever, so much, you know? It’s like, if you think about eternity, how it’s even more than forever, how it’s the biggest span of anything, how it makes your head hurt to think of just _how much_ it is, that’s not even close to the how much I love Rei, and I think it might be too much, so I didn’t say it because there was no way I could say it in a way that it would make sense, in a way that he’d know exactly how much it was, so I didn’t say it, I didn’t say anything,” Nagisa is saying, voice rising as he talks, and he looks up at them, up at Haru, who stares back.

            “Did he say anything?” Rin asks, sounding a little worried.

            Nagisa glances at him, shining eyes sliding sideways. “He told me about the new project he was proposing to his boss. And I listened. And then I told him it sounded like a really good project idea. And then he thanked me for saying that. And then I heard Haru tap on the bathroom window, so I went and got his fixed glasses from the lawn outside the bathroom window, and I put them on the sink and I went back to Rei’s room and I told him I’d thrown out all his contacts and I was sorry, I was really really sorry, and I didn’t know if he was going to yell at me or not, but I felt like I was going to cry, and I didn’t want to cry because he might have thought I was crying because of the sex, which I wanted to have – I’ve wanted to have for a long time, just not before, not before I told him that – but anyway, I thought I was going to cry, so I left before he could say anything. And then that was it.”

            Nagisa looks out of breath again, and turns because the kettle is whistling. He turns off the stove, and Haru feels as though his stream of words is bouncing around in his head, jumbling up, getting confused.

            That Rei and Nagisa would one day become _Rei and Nagisa_ was obvious to everyone, never a question, never a doubt, and even though years passed and it still didn’t happen, it didn’t seem to matter. Time never seemed to matter to them, they acted like it did not exist, like life would stretch out and whenever they decided to be together they would, and that would be that.

            It occurs to Haru now that life isn’t like that. That they are adults now, and nothing is simple anymore.

            Two people who love each other can’t just be together because they’re supposed to be together. It shouldn’t be hard, but it is, and Haru can’t figure it out.

            He’s never really understood the need to be with another person, but now he leans forward, now he needs Nagisa and Rei to be _Nagisa and Rei_ because if they can’t work out, no one can, what hope does Haru have – why is he suddenly desperate for hope anyway?

            “Nagisa, what the hell? You like the guy, he likes you, it’s been like that for years – Why don’t you just – I mean, just tell him. This doesn’t have to be so difficult, you know. Jeez, you’re – Trust me, he likes you. Rei freaking loves you, I know that, he knows that, you know that, why are you –?” Rin starts, sounding angry again, and maybe he has a right to be, but maybe he doesn’t.

            Haru looks at his friend who thinks things are still as simple as they should be. Rin does not know that his best friend has been in love with him. He does not know that every ending is not happy. He does not know that people are not always so easy to read, that maybe everyone has secrets, that maybe some of these secrets are even hidden from the people to whom they belong.

            “No, I don’t know that,” Nagisa says, to Rin, looking surprised. “I know I’ve loved him forever, but we were always together, and I was happy to just be with him, I could never tell him, I could never risk it, and now – Now it’s messed up. I don’t think – I don’t think he could love me, not like I love him. I’m too different,” Nagisa admits, his voice breaking.

            _Different?_ _What do you mean, too different?_

            _You’re both human, aren’t you?_

            “What does that mean?” Rin is asking. “Of course he’s in love with you. Just talk to him, jeez, Nagisa, it doesn’t have to be this hard, aren’t you an adult? You can do this, it’s just Rei, you’ve just got to talk to him. Then it’ll be okay. Trust me, talking fixes everything, I know this, I’ve felt alone and misunderstood before – You remember that, Nagisa? But when I let it all out, it turned out things weren’t so bad.”

            “It’s not that easy, Rin,” Nagisa says quietly, to the table, and his voice is harder than Haru expected, harder than he’s ever heard it.

            “Yes, it is,” Rin says back, sounding angry again.

            “No, it’s not!” Nagisa snaps, looking up, glaring at him in a way Nagisa doesn’t. “What, you think if I call him up now, tell him I love him, I love him so much, that everything will just be okay? It won’t, it won’t, okay, it won’t, you don’t know anything about how I feel, all right? You don’t know, you don’t understand, he is _everything_ , and that isn’t fair, it’s not fair for me to make him everything, it’s not fair for me to expect that back, and I don’t, I know it’s impossible, so don’t tell me that it’s easy, being in love isn’t easy, what do you know about love anyway, Rin, huh, what do you know?” Nagisa is demanding.

            “Look, keep me out of this,” Rin snaps, pointing at Nagisa.

            “Guys, stop,” Haru says, but neither of his friends appear to be listening to him.

            “Needing someone is _hard,_ Rin, okay, it _hurts,_ and I can’t just tell Rei because what if there’s a miracle and he says it back, and then we become more than friends – When I’m with him, everything is right, and I can’t lose that, and when we were just friends, I never had to worry about losing that because friends are forever, but more than friends, that’s not forever, that’s fragile and it’s scary and he’ll realize I’m not just happy Nagisa, I’m needy Nagisa, I need him, I love him so much, I don’t know what to do, and you saying it’s easy is so – It makes me feel so – If this is easy why is it so hard – I don’t want – ”

            “Nagisa, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, hey – Do what Haru said, breathe, come on, I said I’m sorry, I was stupid for saying that, you’re right, I don’t know what it’s like, I’m sorry,” Rin is saying quickly, palms up, and Nagisa nods over and over and then he stops and he breathes, and Haru watches Rin sigh in relief, watches his shoulders sag.

            Rin glances at Haru, raises his eyebrows helplessly, and Haru shrugs.

            Rin looks back at Nagisa, runs a hand through his hair. “Look. I’m not saying I know how Rei feels, but I can tell you that he looks at you the same way you look at him, you know? And I think that Rei is not the kind of person who would sleep with someone he doesn’t, you know, care deeply about. And he probably didn’t say anything after it happened because, I mean, you didn’t say anything, so he was probably nervous – You know how Rei gets nervous around you – Well, maybe you don’t know that, but he does.”

            Nagisa nods slowly, peers at Haru. “Haru, what do you think?” he asks, voice small.

            Haru looks back at him. He could stay silent, but he doesn’t want to, not when Nagisa clearly needs him.

            “I think,” Haru starts, takes a pause, swallows, starts again, “I think Rei is someone you belong to, and you can feel that, and so he’s always felt right. But right now, you’re not sure where you stand with him, and you don’t feel right, you feel all wrong, nothing is okay. And you just want things to be okay again. But the way you know okay is with you and Rei as just friends, and that doesn’t seem like a possibility anymore. So, I think all you can do is hope there’s another way for everything to be okay. And the only way you can find out is if you tell him how you feel, and hope he’ll make it okay again, and give you somewhere to belong again.”

            Nagisa’s eyes are wide, and then he smiles, just a small smile, but it’s there. “Haru…” he says, but he doesn’t say anything else, and Haru looks down at the counter, sees that Nagisa’s fists have unraveled, but Haru’s own hands are fists, and he wills them to relax, but they don’t.

            Haru waits for a _Damn, Nanase,_ or something of the sort from Rin, but receives nothing.

            “Nagisa, look, we’re here for you, right? But you seem to have a lot to think over right now, so Haru and I should go, and you’ll call us if anything happens, okay?” Rin is saying.

            “Yeah, okay, yeah, of course, thank you both, seriously, I’m sorry I’m – I’m sorry I’m a mess, but with Rei – ” Haru looks up to see Nagisa shrugging, his smile sliding more naturally onto his features, and there’s a hint of the usual Nagisa again.

            “See you,” Rin says, clamping Nagisa on the shoulder, and a minute later, he and Haru are walking out of Nagisa’s building into a light drizzle.

            Haru opens his eyes up to the sky, tries to find a color but the rain is covering it up.

            “Hey, give me a ride, will you? I walked here,” Rin says, and Haru doesn’t reply, just unlocks the car for Rin to get in the passenger seat.

            He puts the car in reverse and turns on his wipers, waiting for the front window to be clear before pushing the gas, and only when the car is moving does Rin speak again.

            “All that stuff you said, is that what’s going on with you? Is that what happened at the Olympics? You know, things not being okay, but you’re waiting for them to be okay again? The thing about belonging?” Rin asks, and Haru glances at him.

            “Nagisa was right. You shouldn’t talk about things you don’t know about,” he replies.

            “Hey, asshole, I’m trying to help you! Jeez, you can waltz in and give Nagisa life lessons, but the minute anyone says anything to you, it’s inhumane. You drive me crazy, Nanase,” Rin snaps.

            _Inhumane._

            Haru thinks about the tank. The trays of food kept in freezers in a storage pantry. His M the M, FULL ACCESS card. The face he saw behind the glass, brown hair drifting in front of green eyes, smile a mask of someone that is happy.

            How easily Makoto can smile, trapped in a tank, how hard Haru finds it when he’s free, when he’s a gold medal Olympian, when he has friends who call him an asshole but still try to help him, won’t stop trying to help him.

            “You wouldn’t understand,” he says finally, and Rin laughs in an angry way, loudly and hollowly.

            “Try me, Haru. Just freaking try me, will you?” he says, and he doesn’t sound angry even though Haru thinks maybe he’s trying to.

            Haru stops in front of Rin’s house and looks at him.

            _How can you understand when I don’t?_

            “Is it true that you don’t know what it’s like?” he asks, and Rin stares at him like he’s said something absurd.

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Rin demands.

            “You told Nagisa you were sorry, that you didn’t know what it was like – love, that you didn’t know what love was like. Is that true?” Haru asks.

            _Tell me what it’s like. Tell me I’m wrong._

            “Uh uh, no, this is not about me, this is about _you,_ Nanase, don’t you dare try to change the subject – ” Rin says, shaking his head, but Haru interrupts him.

            “I’m not changing the subject,” he says, and his wipers squeak against the window, so Haru looks up to see that it has stopped raining. He turns the wipers off before looking back at Rin, who is staring at him with his mouth open.

            “Are you – Are you saying that you’re – Is this, Haru, I mean, I’m all about accepting, but if you’ve fallen for the Olympic pool or something, I don’t know if I can – Don’t get me wrong, I want to help you get, ah, through this hard time, but, umm – ” Rin rambles, wincing at Haru, who blinks back.

            “Forget it, Rin,” he sighs.

            “No, no, it’s totally okay if you are in love with a pool! I mean, you’ve always been, umm…”

            _Different?_

            “I’m not in love with the Olympic pool,” Haru replies. “Please get out, I want to go home.”

            “I’m not making fun of you, I swear! Come on, Haru, we can talk about it, I’m not judging!” Rin says quickly, leaning forward, but Haru just presses the button to unlock his car door.

            Rin sighs.

            “All right, all right. But this is progress, I’ll take it. We’ll continue this talk later, deal?” he says, eyebrows raised and suggesting, and then he finally gets out of the car, and Haru drives slowly back home.

            In his apartment, Haru moves his jacket from his washing to his drying machine then fills his bathtub, watching the water level rise, up and up and then it’s at the top and then it’s spilling over, first just small rivulets and then a stream of it, overflowing, wetting the floor, and Haru thinks about how he used to be content to sit in his bathtub for hours, to consider his universe contained in his bathtub – how stupid he was, how naïve to think he could exist in such an enclosed space.

            He turns off the tap when the bathroom tile is covered in an inch of water, then grabs towels from his closet and throws them over the floor. It takes close to an hour to dry his bathroom completely, and by the time he’s done his muscles are aching again as if he’s been swimming in a pool next to a part man, part orca for the last hour instead.

*

The next day at the aquarium, the girl who trained Haru holds out his cellphone and wallet when he walks into the locker room.

            “Haru, I found these on a bench in here today when I came in. You should lock them up if you’re keeping them here,” the girl says, and Haru feels bad for forgetting her name, but the day she trained him he solely focused on his duties as Makoto’s staff, didn’t even think to pay attention to his trainer’s name.

            He’d thought he’d left his stuff in the arena, but he guesses he must have left them in the locker room, and takes them from the girl gratefully.

            “Thanks,” he says, checking his wallet by habit, but the M the M, FULL ACCESS card is missing from its front slot, and Haru checks every pocket, but it isn’t there. “Hey, did you see my access card?” he asks the girl, and she steps closer, looks at his wallet, shakes her head.

            “No. Here, use this one, you’re lucky I have an extra, I was supposed to be giving it to a guy from the penguin exhibit who’s moving up here since we’ll need extra hands to get ready for Makoto’s one year anniversary celebration, but he got the flu, so he won’t be in today. Don’t tell anyone you’ve lost that card, Haru, they’re really strict about that, nobody is supposed to have access to Makoto but us,” the girl says, and Haru nods, wondering where his card could be, hoping it isn’t in the wrong hands.

            Wondering to whom the wrong hands could belong, exactly.

            He doesn’t stand and wonder for too long, however, as he’s eager to see Makoto, and he thanks the girl again, then heads back up the familiar steps to the arena, and Makoto is there, waiting for him, as they have an hour to spend together before his exhibit opens up for the public and he’ll have to leave Haru in order to wave at people from behind a glass.

            Haru does not have a second to lose.

*

When Haru surfaces for a break, it’s to see Sousuke sitting on the edge of the pool across from him, watching him. He waves when Haru catches his eye, and Haru swims over, opting for freestyle this time.

            “Never saw you do backstroke,” Sousuke says, when Haru reaches him and pulls himself up onto the ledge beside him. “Figured you could do it, obviously, but didn’t know you ever did. You’re good – not that that’s surprising.”

            Haru flicks his hair back out of his eyes. He’s embarrassed to have been caught practicing his backstroke, but he can’t think of a good reason why.

            “Did you tell Rin?” he asks, more to change the subject from his backstroke than anything.

            “Tell Rin what?” Sousuke asks, looking at him, but then recognition relaxes his confused expression. “Ah, right, that. No, Haru, I didn’t tell Rin, and it’s not like I’m going to.”

            Haru nods at the pool water, but he doesn’t understand.

            Sousuke chuckles softly. “I guess that’s a lie. I did tell him, years ago – which is why I won’t be telling him again.”

            Haru looks at Sousuke, who’s glancing out the corner of his eyes at him.

            “He said,” Sousuke sighs loudly, though Haru didn’t ask, “ ‘Love you, too, man.’ Just like that, those words exactly, that tone exactly. Clap on the shoulder kind of thing. In a best buds for life way. You know.” Sousuke’s jaw clenches and unclenches, a tick of motion under his skin.

            Haru opens his lips. _He might have thought that’s what you meant too. He might not have known –_

            Sousuke waves his hand, shakes his head, “And it’s not, if you’re thinking – Not that anyone ever knows what you’re thinking, Haru – but if you’re thinking he thought I was just saying it in a best buds for life way too, you’re wrong. I mean, I know Rin is dense – I’ll be the first to say Matsuoka Rin is as clueless as it gets – but he understood what I meant, Haru.”

            “You don’t know that for sure – ”

            “ _Yes_ , I do. He knew what I meant, but he pretended not to to save us both the embarrassment of acknowledging that when I said, ‘You know, Rin, I love you,’ I actually meant it in the ridiculous head-over-heels heart beats like crazy kind of way. It was nice of him, really,” Sousuke says, voice straining on the word _nice._ “Saved our friendship, probably.”

            Haru looks away from Sousuke. The pool is safer, the water rippling gently against their feet as if trying to pull them in. _It’s safer under here,_ the ripples say, _no talking under here, no feeling under here._

            “It’s not a big deal anymore. I’m used to it, you know, you don’t have to worry that I’m heartbroken. I don’t even know why I told you, it’s not like I’m constantly thinking about it or pining or anything. It’s not something consciously on my mind, it’s just – It’s just the way it is. A part of me, a fact of life. My name is Yamazaki Sousuke. I am male, I am twenty-five, I’ve got a fucked up shoulder, I am in love with my best friend Matsuoka Rin. That’s it. Can’t change it. It’s done.”

            Haru moves his feet so the ripples grow.

            _Can’t change it. It’s done._

            “Some things are just how they are. There’s nothing to do but accept them and move on. Or try to. Or at least, stop wishing things would change. Some things can’t change, and to wish that they could is…foolish,” Sousuke sighs, laughing lightly again. “Guess I should stop coming to this damn pool then,” he adds.

            Haru closes his eyes. He listens to his own heartbeat, and it’s calm, his skin is not tingling, his pulse is not hot and jumping.

            _Maybe it’s okay to be a little foolish._

            “Some things change,” Haru says, instead, because he knows of change, he does, he does. “Rin might have changed.”

            “He might have,” Sousuke agrees. “But I doubt it. He’s always been irritatingly stubborn, that asshole.”

            Haru listens to Sousuke laugh, thinks the sound isn’t actually that hollow, and even as it echoes around the pool, there is no bitterness in the reflection that returns, just resignation, just acceptance, maybe a little frustration, but just a little, the smallest bit.

*

Haru has been putting on his green Makoto the Merman t-shirt and swiping his M the M, FULL ACCESS key card into the arena for three weeks when it happens.

            Makoto’s one-year anniversary is in four days. The Makoto the Merman board at the aquarium still has not decided whether or not he will be allowed to speak at this public event – which includes half-off tickets, raffles for Makoto the Merman stuffed animals, and possibly – they’re still deciding – chances to swim alongside Makoto the Merman with a staff member present at all times.

            The manager took Haru aside and asked him to speak with the merman, find out if it would be safe to allow the arena to be opened to the public, to allow guests to sit on the bleachers that surround the top of Makoto’s tank and listen to Makoto the Merman speak of his own experience, both in the ocean and now, in the aquarium that he loves.

            Haru agreed without knowing quite what his manager wanted to hear, without knowing exactly what his manager envisioned him saying to Makoto the Merman and Makoto the Merman saying back.

            He forgets about the manager’s request on sight of the merman, much as he forgets most things on sight of the merman. But he does remember, a little way in, after he has brought Makoto his afternoon meal (crab bites with a side of a banana mango smoothie) and they have waited a half hour, then swam around the pool a few laps, then rested by the side of the pool as is now routine, Haru sitting on the steps and Makoto leaning against the side of the pool, talking about anything.

            Even though it is Makoto who does most of the talking, Haru doesn’t mind, prefers it that way, likes that Makoto so easily fills in the silences so that they don’t even feel like silences, so that Haru feels like he’s talking just as much because the merman has a way of reading Haru’s thoughts, of responding as if Haru has spoken aloud, of taking the pressure off Haru to force himself to speak when it is hard enough to breathe around Makoto, it is hard enough to keep his pulse from jumping right out of his skin.

            When there are silences, they are comfortable, there is no expectation for Haru to start some other conversation, to force speech because silence is just as lovely as the arena full of Makoto’s voice, their gentle exchange of inhales and exhales is just as loud, just as fulfilling.

            During one silence, Haru remembers the manager’s words to him, thinks about them and what they could mean and whether or not he really wants to ask Makoto about how he truly feels in this tank.

            Makoto, however, pushes aside the silence first, and Haru is again struck with the wonder of how his mind is so easily read by this merman.

            “I never thought I would think of this tank as my home,” Makoto says, and Haru looks at him, the way he has become familiar and no less extraordinary, like the sky, Haru thinks, how it’s always present but always something new, something wonderful, something he could stare at forever, for eternity.

            Makoto is looking at the water of the tank, his hand gliding over it, hardly rippling the water as if it is not a foreign body but part of the water itself, does not disturb the surface because it is part of the surface, because it belongs there.

            “My home was bigger. Of course, it was the ocean. And even so, I would swim close to the surface when I was young, a boy, foolish at that age. I liked fishermen’s boats, I would swim near them, listen to their strange language. I even learned a little Japanese that way. They think I’m a quick learner, for picking up the language so easily, but the truth is I practiced Japanese since I was a boy, I’ve felt the language under my tongue and against my lips and tasted it for years,” Makoto admits, all to the water, and Haru watches him, fascinated, thinking he is extraordinary, how is it possible for him to be so extraordinary?

            As a boy, Haru used to like the fishermen’s boats too. He would stand on the dock and watch them leave the harbor, he would watch them set out and think how wonderful it would be, to be in the middle of the sea, to see water on all sides, to feel like his own island.

            He always wanted to be invited on one of the boats, but he was just a kid, and it was too dangerous, the fishermen would tell him, they didn’t have life jackets for kids, the ones they had would slip right off his thin shoulders.

            They’d tell him that, pinch his thin shoulders in a kind way and laugh, and Haru would wish his shoulders were bigger, broader, he would wish he was a man instead of a boy.

            He was foolish too, back then.

            “But one day there was a storm, and the fisherman’s boat, it didn’t know the waves like I did. It didn’t know how to stay afloat like I did. And I wondered why the fisherman was not turning around, like they usually did when the sky filled with clouds. They would point up and say in your language, ‘Storm coming, let’s turn back,’ and I’d practice those words under my breath as I watched them turn back,” Makoto said.

            _Storm coming._

_Hold onto the ropes, kid, storm’s coming!_

            Haru pulls his arms to his chest, wraps them around his torso, feels as though an icy wind is blowing hard against his skin.

            “That day, even though I heard the shout, ‘Storm coming!’ I didn’t hear, ‘Let’s turn back!’ And I stared at the boat by the surface of the water where I shouldn’t have been – I was so foolish as a boy, I shouldn’t have been up there, it was too dangerous for me, but it was also too dangerous for them,” Makoto whispers, and Haru blinks.

            _Them?_

            “For you, Haru, for humans,” Makoto says, looking up from the water now, and his eyes are desperate, heavy and desperate in a way Haru does not understand and doesn’t think he wants to.

            _Let’s swim, Makoto. Let me see your freestyle, and I’ll show you my backstroke, I’ve been practicing for you, let me show you what I’ve practiced, let’s stop talking and let the water submerge us again, make us belong again._

            “The fisherman didn’t turn his boat around because he’d seen me, I saw him see me, our gazes locked, I know they did. He’d seen a merman, and he couldn’t turn around, not without coming closer, without capturing this extraordinary thing, so he stayed and tried to come closer to me, but the waves took him back, and then they crushed his boat, and I couldn’t see him anymore, I swam closer, but I couldn’t see him anymore.”

            Haru can see the night perfectly. Can feel the waves, hard, the undertow pulling him down, the water hot and salty in his mouth, knives at his throat, he can feel those knives at his throat so easily, how can he feel them so easily, more than imagination – it’s a memory, he realizes, it’s a memory of drowning.

            _Here, kid, take this life jacket, tie it tight, make sure you tie it tight, those shoulders are still awfully skinny._

            “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been up there, I never belonged up there, around humans, and I knew that, I should have just stayed where I belonged,” Makoto says, but to Haru it sounds like he’s pleading.

            _Where do you belong, Makoto?_

_Where do I belong, Makoto?_

            “Makoto – ”

            The merman is shaking his head. “I never went close to the surface again. Except one time, nearly a year ago, it’ll be exactly a year ago in four days. I have two younger siblings, Haru, Ren and Ran, I’ve told you about them, my best friends. I accidentally said something in Japanese, it was stupid, I was practicing, but I don’t know why, I shouldn’t have been, it was stupid, and they were curious and wanted to know what I was saying, where I’d learned it, so I told them, and the next thing I know they were swimming to the surface,” Makoto says, his words quick now, rushing out, one after the other like rain falling hard, slapping the sea.

            Haru searches Makoto’s face, looks for the smile he saw the first day, the one that made him warm because now Haru is cold and he needs this warmth, he needs it, he’s shivering, his heart is beating as fast as it can in an attempt to warm him, but Haru knows nothing will work but the smile of this merman that somehow has a temperature even though smiles aren’t supposed to have temperatures.

            “By the time I reached them, there was a fisherman’s net around them both. They were so small, so young, they didn’t have the strength to pull free, so I had to swim higher, I had to pull them out, but while I did, I got tangled. I am strong, Haru. I am stronger than a net, than a fisherman’s boat. I have the strength of a storm, and I know that, I knew that, as I realized I was trapped, I knew I could swim fast and hard down and pull the net, and I also knew that the boat would overturn, and I also knew that the sky was full of clouds ready to burst.” Makoto closes his eyes, so Haru does the same.

            The darkness is easier. It is cool, in the dark, and even though Haru is already shivering, he lets himself feel the cold, the frigid waters that numb the pain of knives in his throat.

            Makoto’s voice comes through the dark like a hand reaching out, trying to find something, anything to hold on to. “I did not swim away. I did not overturn the boat, not again. I did not kill another human. I let them capture me, and they spoke to me in Japanese, and I understood some of what they were saying but pretended I didn’t, I just nodded, I just agreed, and then I said, ‘Yes,’ and I kept saying, ‘Yes,’ because they weren’t going to let me go, and I wasn’t going to swim away, and there wasn’t anything else to say. And that is how I became Makoto the Merman,” Makoto concludes.

            Haru opens his eyes, and Makoto has opened his eyes as well, is looking at Haru in a way Haru has seen before, he’s sure he’s seen it before, before Makoto was Makoto the Merman, before Haru was Haru the Human, back when they were both just boys and foolish.

            Now, Haru realizes, they are men but still foolish, just as foolish.

            “I never thought, Haru, that this tank could be my home. But with you, you make me think – ” Makoto starts, but he doesn’t finish, just swallows like he’s swallowing knives down his throat, and then he smiles, the smallest smile, but it’s enough to thaw Haru out so that he is no longer numb, so that he can move, so he does, he slips off the steps, he swims up to Makoto the Merman, he rests his hand on the edge of the pool because he’s good at treading water, but he’s not an idiot.

            He will drown, if he does not hold on, because sometimes Makoto makes him feel as though he is drowning.

            _I don’t know if I can make it feel okay, Makoto. But I want to. Let me try, let me try, will you let me be foolish enough to try?_

            “Yes,” Makoto whispers, so Haru leans up because Makoto is taller than him, he has to push up from the ledge of the pool with his elbow, and he leans closer, and he watches the green eyes close, and he kisses the merman’s lips that look just like a human’s, even from so up close, they are the same as a human’s.

            The temperature of Makoto’s smile must belong solely to his lips because they are burning, a burning that delves deep into Haru’s own skin, that trickles like rain, soft at first, just a drizzle, then it’s hard, he’s drenched in heat, he’s burning, and then there’s a flash that Haru can see through the darkness even though his eyes are closed, and he doesn’t know what it is, but he thinks it must be lightning, as impossible as it is, there must be lightning in this arena, and it feels so good, to be electrocuted, to be caught in this storm and feel the sky burst over his skin.

*


	6. Chapter 6

When Haru opens the door, it is too late to zip his jacket over his Makoto the Merman shirt, and Rin takes one look before recognition falls across his features.

            “Oh, that’s how,” he says, in a soft exhale, and Haru stares at him, then at the newspaper in his hand, wondering why Rin has brought it to the front door of Haru’s apartment building, wondering why Rin is there at all.

            “What are you doing here?” Haru asks because he’s running late, and the question of the newspaper can wait, but Rin’s presence can’t, mostly because he’s standing in Haru’s way, not letting him exit his own building.

            “Haru, I’m sorry,” Rin says, and Haru watches him carefully, waits for more.

            The only thing Haru can think of that Rin should be apologizing for is making him even more late for the aquarium, but it is doubtful this is the reason for his apology.

            “Let’s go inside,” Rin offers, and Haru wonders if Rin even understands what his shirt means, then figures he’s going to have to explain anyway, as it may be the only way to get Rin to step aside.

            “I have to go to work,” Haru says, and Rin’s eyes slide back to Haru’s t-shirt, move across the chest as if reading the aquarium name on the front.

            “You’ve been fired,” Rin says, after a pause, and Haru takes a second to absorb his words.

            He decides he doesn’t believe Rin, mostly because there is no way Rin knew he had the job at the aquarium before a minute ago anyway, so it seems pretty dubious for him to know if Haru had lost it.

            While Haru stands his ground, he watches the sun filtering past Rin’s body, slithering around him into Haru’s building, and Haru wishes he could do the same, bend his shape around Rin’s, escape, be on his way to the aquarium so he can see Makoto for that hour before the Makoto the Merman exhibit opens for the day, during which Haru will wait until lunchtime, then again until dinnertime, watching the clock as the seconds tick past before he can see Makoto, he can touch Makoto, he can belong with Makoto.

            “Haru, let’s go inside,” Rin says softly again, and Haru attempts to turn his attention back on his friend because there’s something strange about him today, something odd about the way he clutches that newspaper, something off about the way he peers at Haru as though Haru is a fragile thing, someone to be spoken to softly, to be blocked from even leaving his building, to be kept safe, and Haru remembers Makoto’s strange words: _I really want you to be safe._

            “What are you talking about?” Haru says, voice harsher this time because his morning hour with Makoto is being cut down, maybe now it’s fifty-nine minutes, but he was already running late, make that fifty-seven minutes, although he can drive quickly, so fifty-eight minutes if he’s lucky, but he won’t drive too quickly because he needs to be safe for Makoto.

            “We need to talk about this inside,” Rin insists, voice a little sterner now, and he looks behind him, so Haru does too, wondering what he’s looking for, maybe it’s the sun, maybe he wants to block the sunlight from escaping too.

            “I have to go to work,” Haru repeats, thinking maybe Rin misheard the first time, maybe he still doesn’t understand Haru’s t-shirt.

            _I’ll be the first to say that Matsuoka Rin is as clueless as it gets._

            “Didn’t you hear me?” Rin says, as if Haru is the one that doesn’t understand, and then he’s walking forward, pushing past Haru, grabbing Haru’s arm as he passes and pulling him, and Haru doesn’t resist, maybe because he’s still surprised by Rin’s early presence in front of his door, maybe it’s a lingering numbness from the night before, in Makoto’s tank, with Makoto’s lips opening against his and his breath pouring down Haru’s throat, soothing everywhere the knives had torn.

            Only inside the elevator does Haru remember to resist, and he pulls his arm out of Rin’s grasp, attempts to step out, but the doors close too quickly, and Rin presses the button to Haru’s floor.

            “What the hell, Matsuoka?” Haru demands.

            Fifty-one minutes at most, at this point, by the time Haru will be able to shake off Rin, and the elevators were always slow, maybe he’ll take the stairs down from his floor instead.

            The elevator doors open at Haru’s floor, and Rin pulls Haru forward, and Haru pulls back, but Rin is stronger, Haru never knew this, he wonders when Rin got so strong, he thinks about Rin’s stroke in the pool and how Haru could always match him, and then he would excel, pull past Rin, but Rin would always be right there, would win the silver medals that hang on the wall in his house while Haru’s gold were thrown in the trash the night he got back.

            Rin has a spare key, and Haru regrets giving it to him, as he’s opening Haru’s door now, all but throwing Haru in, closing the door behind him and standing in front of it like he’s standing guard, that newspaper still held against his chest.

            “Rin, what – ”

            “You need to read this,” Rin says, voice soft again, like he’s speaking to a child, a foolish boy, telling him he can’t come on the boat this time, the life jackets are too big and his shoulders are too small, _Maybe next time, kid._

            He’s holding out the newspaper, and Haru turns, looks at the clock on his microwave.

            Forty-five minutes if he runs to his car. Forty-seven minutes if he speeds.

            Makoto will be waiting, will be wondering, maybe will be doubting, thinking about what happened the night before and assuming it may have to do with the reason they have only forty-seven minutes now at best instead of the usual hour, maybe the human he kissed doesn’t want any time at all.

            “I don’t have time – ”

            _“Haru!”_ Rin shouts, and Haru stops, stares, tries to focus on Rin because maybe he should be a little concerned by Rin’s expression – it is a little concerning, after all.

            Haru stares, and Rin closes his eyes, holds the newspaper out even further but doesn’t move from in front of the door.

            “Just, read it. Please,” he says, voice carefully controlled, so Haru leans forward and takes it.

            He unfolds it, is about the scan the headline on the front page but doesn’t even get to that because the photograph taking over half the page catches his eye, and he feels his heart stop, then it’s racing, he’s clenching the paper tight, even tighter than Rin had, ripping the right side because his nails are digging in so hard.

            And then he relaxes. _This cannot be real._

            It can’t, really, there is no logic behind the photograph on the front page of this newspaper. He thinks, maybe, he is dreaming, but it does not feel like a dream.

            On the other hand, there stands the fact that since seeing Makoto the Merman in that dark room months before, with the echoes of dancing water reflecting against the black walls, everything has felt more or less like a dream, like a haze he has been swimming through, as though the dancing reflection of waters have been drowning him in both light and weightlessness.

            This moment, in contrast, is particularly sharp. There is no haze. There is the feel of newspaper under his fingertips, the smoothness of it, almost silky, the crinkle that it makes against the indents of his fingerprints, the acute knowledge of Rin’s presence at the door, watching him, waiting for him to react.

            “Haru,” Rin says gently, and Haru closes his eyes, knows this is not a dream, this is real; he tries to rationalize it, tries to think, and what he comes up with is the memory of the flash.

            It was like lightning, he thought. It was like being electrocuted, it was like the sky bursting overhead and burning him, but there was no sky, there was just ceiling, there was no lightning, there was just a flash across the darkness of his closed eyelids.

            Haru opens his eyes. He thinks about the NO PHOTOGRAPHY signs, how there are none in the arena, how even in the exhibits where there are NO PHOTOGRAPHY signs, people still pull out their cameras, still take pictures of the extraordinary creatures inside the tanks.

            There is the matter of getting into the arena, as a staff member surely would not have released such a photograph, but there is also the matter of Haru’s missing access key card, how maybe it was not misplaced, maybe it was stolen, or maybe it was just found but so was an opportunity to take a picture that would reveal exactly how human Makoto the Merman could be.

            Haru looks away from the photograph, looks finally at the headline.

            _A Whale of a Kiss_ – it reads, and all Haru can think is how Makoto is not a whale, he is not even part whale, he is part orca, and the orca is part of the dolphin family, how did this get passed the editors, how did this come into print with such a blunder.

            “Haru,” Rin says again, and Haru looks up at him.

            “The orca is part of the dolphin family,” Haru says, quietly, and Rin just looks at him, his face pained as if Haru is someone to be pitied, so Haru looks back at the newspaper, reads the article under the photograph, finds out from the black font that the staff member involved – the Olympic Gold Medalist, Nanase Haruka, who previously made Japan proud – has been fired immediately from his position, of course.

            He does not read on. Words like _activists_ and _human nature_ and _complex emotion_ flit past his vision involuntarily, but Haru does not investigate, does not want to know what is said about Haru the Human and Makoto the Merman and their kiss caught on camera by an unnamed source.

            “You shouldn’t leave your apartment, at least for a little while. I’ll get you anything, groceries or whatever, if you need, but your address might be leaked – It’s on record at the aquarium, I’m sure, and the Olympic board, I mean, there’s tons of places they could get it,” Rin is saying, and Haru listens to every word, but not much of it makes sense.

            Not leave? He needs to see Makoto. If he goes now, he might have thirty-three minutes, maybe thirty-four, depends on traffic –

            “The activists – They’re having a freaking field day with this, you know, you’re like their spokesperson now or something, apparently this whole thing shows how human it is or some shit, so just, stay put, it’ll die out, I’m sure, some new scandal will pop up,” Rin continues, in that same reassuring tone, and Haru tries to latch on to what exactly is supposed to be reassuring.

            _This whole thing shows how human it is…_

            HE not IT, the activists would say, but all Haru can wonder is what _this whole thing_ is.

            The kiss?

            The photograph?

            Everything else?

            Haru looks back at the newspaper, back at the photograph, tries to see if it captured the way his skin was burning, his pulse was jumping, his heart was beating, the world was fading, but none of that seems visible from the picture, no, it’s just a close-up of his and Makoto’s profiles, Haru’s face tilted up – he looks at the way his mouth seems to meld into Makoto’s – Makoto’s face tilted down – he looks at the way Makoto’s eyes are closed and his eyelashes are longer than Haru expected, he never really noticed them, they look soft even in the photograph, and Haru wants to touch them, but doesn’t because he is aware of Rin still watching him even as he talks – he’s still talking, maybe he’s saying something important, maybe Haru should listen.

            “ – do you hear it? Haru?”

            “What?” Haru asks, blinking, trying to focus, looking away from the photograph.

            “Your cell?” Rin asks, eyes narrowed, and Haru knows his look of concern, knows it well since the Olympics.

            Haru hears his phone ringing, then; he thought the sound was just in his ears, but it’s not, so he fishes his cell from his pocket, and it’s the aquarium.

            “It’s the aquarium,” he says, mildly. They are going to fire him, he can guess. He wonders if they’ll make him give back his green Makoto the Merman t-shirt.

            “Let me take it,” Rin says, stepping forward, and Haru does as he’s told mostly because he can’t think of an argument.

            Rin takes his phone, and he’s not in front of Haru’s door anymore, Haru could slip around him, but he stays put, looks back at the clock – he has twenty-eight minutes now, if he runs a few red lights.

            “Hello,” Rin says, but he’s cut off – Even Haru can hear the shouting from the other line.

            He thinks it’s rather unprofessional, to shout at an employee over the phone, but then, he reasons, it’s rather unprofessional to kiss Makoto the Merman.

            “Hey – Hey, you listen up! First of all, this isn’t Haru, Haru isn’t available – And second – You don’t – Hey, didn’t I tell you to listen?” Rin is shouting back, and Haru watches him with mild surprise, thinking maybe he should intervene, as his friend shouldn’t be shouting at his manager, but then, his manager is now his ex-manager.

            Still, shouting seems excessive, and Haru watches Rin’s face turn red, wonders what his manager is saying because all Haru can hear are the garbled segments of his yells through the phone.

            “Oh, get over yourself, your stupid aquarium will be fine – Yeah, we get it, he’s fired, thanks for the heads up, by the way, it was great for him to find out from a freaking newspaper – Oh, don’t even go there, that’s none of your business!” Rin snaps.

            Twenty-six minutes.

            “Yeah, all right, fine, I’ll tell him – Yeah, okay!” Rin shouts, then hangs up the phone and glares at Haru, though his gaze softens on Haru’s face.

            Haru takes his phone back, waits, and Rin waves his hand in a way that suggests the whole conversation was a waste of time.

            “Your manager,” Rin says, as if Haru did not know. “You’re fired – obviously – and also banned cause apparently there’s some rule against making out with the animals or something,” Rin says, waving his hand again as if to brush it off, while Haru stares at him in confusion, trying to remember if he made out with an animal without noticing, then realizing Rin is referring to Makoto, and he feels hot, he feels itchy.

            The word _banned_ does not help the heat, the itchiness.

            “Oh, and he said something about you turning in some access card, but they don’t want you going near the exhibit, so you just gotta drop it off at the desk, there’s supposed to be someone there waiting in a green shirt or something, I don’t know what he was saying, he was being ridiculous, anyway, and there’s no way you’re going back there, not with the press and the activists and all the nutsos, so I’ll drop it off for you or call Nagisa or something,” Rin says.

            Haru just stares, and Rin sighs.

            “Look, don’t worry about that asshole. He’s just got his pants on too tight cause you know, there’s already all those issues with activists giving the aquarium a hard time, and he just wants someone to blame it on – you know, with this photograph and all, it’s on the news, guess you didn’t see, probably a good thing, actually, but this is serious ammo for them, and now other people are starting to think of the whale guy being locked up as some kind of seriously inhumane thing cause he looks pretty human when he’s, uhh, kissing someone, and the aquarium is getting all this flack,” Rin says, in a stream of quick words, in the manner of ripping of a band aid.

            Haru continues to stare at Rin, and Rin flushes, looks away, sighs loudly with shoulders heaving, then tucks his bangs behind his ears, but they just come loose again, drifting in front of his eyes when he looks back at Haru.

            “Haru, look. Should we, uh, should we talk about, err, it?” he asks.

            _It?_

            “You know, that,” Rin says, gesturing in a spasmic way to the newspaper Haru still holds.

            Haru looks down at it, not that he has forgotten, but because he wants another glimpse at the photograph. He has seen his photograph in the newspaper before. It is not something new.

            The way his stomach clenches is nothing new.

            “You know, I’m thirsty. Are you? I’m going to make tea. Is that cool with you? Have you got tea?” Rin asks, walking quickly past Haru; the door is completely clear now, seventeen minutes with Makoto could still be had before his exhibit opens, but then Haru remembers he’s banned, so he turns around, follows Rin into his kitchen with the newspaper still in hand.

            Haru’s phone rings again, as he sits at his own counter and watches Rin rummage in his drawers for the tea even though he’s been over countless times before, and Haru glances at his cell.

            “Who is it?” Rin asks, head in a drawer.

            “Nagisa,” Haru says.

            “You can take that,” Rin says, as if Haru needed his permission.

            Haru answers the phone. “Hey,” he says.

            “Are you in love with him?” Nagisa asks immediately, and Haru is surprised by his seriousness, by the lack of shouting.

            “What?” he asks, sure he’s heard wrong, maybe Nagisa was talking to someone else off the phone.

            “Are you in love with Makoto?” Nagisa asks, and Haru drops the newspaper on the counter, kiss up.

            _A Whale of a Kiss._

            “Why are you asking me that?” he asks, voice quieter than he’d intended.

            “What’s he saying? Put it on speaker,” Rin says, setting two mugs on the counter. “I’m surprised he’s not shouting, I was sure he’d be absolutely thrilled about this, that kid.”

            “Because if you are, then don’t let what’s happening right now ruin that. Don’t let anything ruin that, Haru. It doesn’t matter what he is, or who he is. Okay? I just wanted to tell you that because I think you’re really special, and I’m happy someone else thinks so too,” Nagisa says, in a rush of words, his nonsense as usual, refusing to make sense as usual, nothing logical as usual, but Haru finds himself gripping the phone tighter, pressing it harder against his ear.

            _What are you saying, Nagisa?_

            “Nagisa, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to help me,” Haru says instead, the words coming out without his knowledge. He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for, he only knows what he needs, at that moment, what is absolutely most important.

            “Anything, Haru,” Nagisa replies, easily, as if he didn’t even have to think about it.

            _Maybe he didn’t._

            “What are you two talking about?” Rin snaps.

            “Remember when you dressed up as Rei for Halloween a few years ago? And got those fake glasses? I need to use them. Do you still have them?”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Rin is still saying, but Haru isn’t listening to him, is only listening to Nagisa, whose response is again immediate.

            “Of course. I’ll bring them right over, Haru, don’t worry,” Nagisa says.

            “Thanks,” Haru says, and Nagisa hangs up.

            “What the hell, Nanase?” Rin asks, staring at Haru with his eyebrows raised, but Haru only shrugs in return.

            He pulls his mug of tea closer to him, cups his hands around it, feels the warmth seep into his skin and trickle down his wrists, along his forearms, stopping somewhere by his elbows.

            In ten minutes, the Makoto the Merman exhibit will open for the public. Makoto will realize Haru is not going to show up to bring his morning meal – or maybe the manager already informed him that Haru was let go – and he will dive down into his tank until he is visible to the guests in the dark room, he will wave at the people in the room who probably grip copies of that day’s newspaper, he will hitch on that smile that looks genuinely happy even though Haru knows he is missing his best friends, his family, his ocean home.

            And maybe he is missing Haru, too.

            “Haru, are you listening? Look, we can’t just not talk about this. Forget about your asshole manager and the activists and the stupid article for a second, okay, and just talk to me, will you? What is this about? You and this – and this whale guy?” Rin is asking, and Haru looks up at him.

            “Orca, Rin. How hard is it to remember that he’s part orca?” Haru asks, quietly.

            Rin stares for a second, then drags a hand over his face, letting it slap hard on the counter next to his mug of tea. “Haru. This isn’t anything real, right? This – _this –_ ” Rin emphasizes, jabbing a finger at the whale of a kiss caught on camera “ – it’s just, I don’t know, it asked you to explain kissing or something, right? You’re not, I mean, this isn’t a normal – It’s not even – Haru, it’s not _human_ , you know?” Rin says, almost desperately, and Haru takes a sip of his tea.

            It’s too hot, burns the tip of his tongue, he should have blown on it first.

            _Why does it have to matter? Why does he have to be human?_

_Why can’t we just belong?_

            Rin sighs like it hurts him to exhale so loudly. “Just tell me, Haru. I don’t care about this photograph, or any of this bullshit the article says. I don’t give a damn, you know that. Kiss whoever you want, whatever you want, it’s your business. But tell me you’re not actually into it, this thing, whatever, not a whale, I get it, part orca, okay, fine. You don’t actually, I mean, you don’t really have feelings or anything for it, do you?” Rin asks, smiling a bit like the thought is absurd.

            _HE not_ _IT,_ the picket signs said.

            _Needing someone is hard,_ Nagisa said.

            _He knew what I meant,_ Sousuke said.

            _Yes,_ Makoto said, again and again onto Haru’s lips when they’d remember to breathe, _yes, yes, yes._

            Haru doesn’t say anything. He looks at the photograph of him and Makoto, full color, taking up half the front page of the newspaper, and thinks that a picture says a thousand words – that surely that must be enough to answer Rin’s question.

*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! super sorry i forgot to post a chapter yesterday, i was busy all day and it completely slipped my mind. hope ya'll are enjoying the fic and that you like this chapter! :)

It’s not like Haru thinks fake glasses can completely hide his identity.

            But they’re better than nothing, and all Haru has time for, so the moment Nagisa arrives with them, Haru puts them on, grabs his sweatshirt, and leaves his apartment.

            Rin, in the passenger seat, continues to vocalize his objections as Haru speeds, but Nagisa, surprisingly, is silent in the backseat.

            “Haru, I don’t think you understand how big of a deal this is. It’s international, Haru. You know, no other country has got a merman, this guy is an international phenomenon, activists from all over the world are freaking out cause now there’s solid evidence that he’s basically human or something, that this captivity thing is inhumane – Haru, you can’t just waltz in there, there will be news crews and – Nanase, will you fucking listen to me?” Rin says, hand slapping the dashboard as Haru presses his foot harder on the gas when a light turns yellow.

            “Rin, leave him alone,” Nagisa says softly.

            “And you – ” Rin objects, turning around in his seat to berate Nagisa. “Why are you supporting this craziness? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but Nagisa, come on, this isn’t just some cool thing, this is real life, I get that you’re fascinated with the creature, but Haru is our friend – ”

            “I know that, Rin,” Nagisa continues, completely calm.

            Haru glances in his rearview mirror, catches Nagisa’s eye, looks back at the road and clenches the steering wheel tighter.

            “This can’t end well!” Rin shouts. “How can you both not see this? Haru, I know you have some sense, come on, what are you doing?”

            “Rin, stop shouting,” Haru says mildly, and Rin curses under his breath, but it’s easier to ignore, and then they’re at the aquarium, Haru pulling into a parking spot – avoiding those marked Employees Only, of course.

            He pulls his hood up when he gets out of the car, and Rin looks at him and shakes his head, but then Nagisa is next to him, squeezing his arm.

            Haru glances at him and receives a nod.

            The entrance is swarmed with news crews and activists. There are countless picket signs, but Haru doesn’t bother reading any of them. The photograph from the newspaper is plastered on several, and he glances at them before walking forward, slipping past the cameras with Nagisa and Rin by his sides, his head ducked.

            “This isn’t going to work,” Rin is saying, pressed against Haru’s side, and Haru tightens his hand around his employee badge, feels the laminated plastic digging into his palm.

            _I need to see him, I need to see him, I need to see him…_

            In the aquarium, he slips past the lines – longer than he’s ever seen them – and Nagisa and Rin step back as he heads towards the employee entrance, pressing his badge against the scanner, hoping the technology isn’t enough that each employee has their own scanning bar and his has been banned, and when the red light turns green, he exhales in relief, lets himself into the hall that leads around the general admission ticket-rippers, keeps to the side then blends into the back of a large family.

            There are staff members of every color t-shirt walking around the halls, more than usual, and Haru wonders if he’s being paranoid or if they’re watching for him.

            There are also news crews, people with cameras everywhere, some standing beside the NO PHOTOGRAPHY signs, some talking to people with picket signs.

            Haru hears his name everywhere. He hears Makoto’s name everywhere.

            The line to the Makoto the Merman exhibit extends all the way into the hall outside the shark exhibit, and at first Haru is confused, not realizing that it is the same line until he walks forward, sees that it is, has to walk back.

            He stands at the end of line, but there are people quickly behind him.

            Green shirted staff members are everywhere, and Haru knows better than to try to slip up to the arena.

            Haru keeps his gaze to the ground, his hood up, breathes deeply and uses the time to try and slow the beating of his heart, but it doesn’t work, even when the sign beside him changes from _1 hour wait from this point_ to _30 minute wait from this point._

            At fifteen minutes, Haru chances looking up from his feet to see who is ripping the tickets, and it is the girl who trained him, whose name he still doesn’t know.

            He looks back at his feet, takes small steps forward as the line moves, knows he has almost no chance of sneaking by but also knows that he has to try, he has to try, he has to see Makoto the Merman.

            And then he’s at the stand, and of course he doesn’t have a ticket, but he hands his M the M FULL ACCESS card to the girl, and she takes it without looking at him, freezes, looks up, and Haru stares back at her through Nagisa’s fake glasses.

            “Please. I need to see him,” Haru whispers.

            Her eyes are wide, and she shakes her head. “I could get fired for this,” she says quietly, eyes darting around her before locking back on Haru.

            Haru curls his fingertips against his palm, presses them into his skin, relaxes, presses them into his skin, relaxes, presses them into his skin, relaxes.

            “I need to see him,” Haru repeats, even more quietly.

            _I need to know that he’s okay, please, please, I need him to know that none of this matters to me, I need him to know that we still belong._

            The girl closes her eyes, then opens them and nods. “Yes, okay. But I need to keep this, do you understand? And you can’t let anyone see you,” she says, a rush of words, pocketing Haru’s M the M FULL ACCESS key card, and Haru nods, so grateful.

            “Thank you,” he says, and she unlatches the red rope for him to walk past. He opens the door to the darkroom, steps in, then closes it behind him.

            The previous times Haru has been in the dark room, voices were kept hushed in an unspoken rule. The soft, scattered reflection of illuminated water from the tank against the floor and walls seemed to muffle the voices, to suggest a need for secrecy, for gentle tones, but today, the voices in the room are loud, jarring, collide with the water’s soft reflection, shatter the quiet darkness Haru has come to expect from the Makoto the Merman exhibit.

            The other people in the room are pressed against the tank, but Haru notices no one is talking on the telephone, and as he walks carefully closer, he notes that there is a paper taped over the slot where money could be fed that reads OUT OF ORDER.   

            Haru has a feeling it is not actually out of order.

            He does not see the merman for a few seconds, but then Makoto appears, swimming in from the right side of the glass. Two people tap the glass as he swims by, but he does not stop, and is quickly gone again, first his torso disappearing and then all that Haru can see in the glass is his massive tail so that for a second it seems as though he is not part human at all, just an orca in a tank until the tail is gone as well.

            The second time Makoto swims into view roughly ten seconds later, he does not keep swimming, but stops in front of the glass, and the people in front are shouting. Haru hears his own name mixed with Makoto’s, watches as people press the newspaper against the glass, but he tunes out the garble of words, the excited syllables, the rush of voices.

            He looks closely at Makoto through both the glass of Nagisa’s fake glasses and the glass of the tank, examines the heavy-lidded eyes, stares at the lips that are in a small smile.

            Makoto’s smile is hesitant today, and he shrugs at the people on the other side of the glass as if in apology. Haru watches his chest, the way it rises and falls heavily as if he has been swimming for a while, as if he would still be swimming but is too tired, has to take a break, is only staying in front of the glass because he has no other choice.

            He watches as the merman lifts one of his large hands, runs it through his drifting hair, and Haru can feel it in his own hair, can feel the long fingers weaving through, warm, gentle, lovely.

            Makoto rubs the back of his neck, eyes skimming over the people in front of the glass, and then they’re roaming around the room, and then they’re locking on Haru’s, and his smile falters, Haru watches his lips and the way they shift, the corners falling, and then he opens his mouth as if to say something.

            He doesn’t say anything, Haru can tell, even though the glass is between them. He closes his lips, and Haru watches, can tell he is clenching his jaw because he knows this merman, he knows this merman well, watches the bob of his throat as he swallows, wonders what words he is swallowing, what words he wants to say but cannot.

            He should not be looking at Haru for this long, Haru knows this. He knows that the people in front of the glass will notice that the attention of Makoto the Merman is not on them, but on someone else in the room, and they will turn to see who this is, and they will look down at their newspapers with suspicion, and they will look back up at Haru, and they will look back down at the photograph, and they will look back up at Makoto, and they will realize who has walked into the Makoto the Merman exhibit with a pathetic disguise.

            But Makoto does not look away. His green gaze is heavy and sad and Haru doesn’t understand what it is Makoto is feeling, and it feels wrong not to know, as if he has done something wrong because he always knows, he knows Makoto the Merman not just the way the staff is taught to know Makoto the Merman, not just the way the pamphlets educate guests to know Makoto the Merman, not just the way Haru the Human is supposed to know Makoto the Merman.

            _Makoto, Makoto…_

            And then Makoto is lifting his arm, is putting his hand against the glass of his tank, is still not looking away from Haru, and Haru clenches his fists, feels his chest tighten and it _hurts_ – _Needing someone hurts –_ and he tries to take a step back but instead he’s taking one forward, it’s just an accident, and he doesn’t really notice that the other people in the room have gone quiet because it’s supposed to be quiet in that room, the calm is natural, it is not something to be noticed, it is just something that is meant to be, something that belongs, so when silence falls, Haru just feels right.

            “Is that the man Makoto the Merman loves, Daddy?”

            It’s a small voice, but in the renewed quiet of the room it is loud, and Haru looks away from Makoto and the hand on the glass and sees that the crowd of people – fourteen people, he knows, because the limit is fifteen so as not to scare the merman – are all staring at him.

            Haru looks away from these people, looks back at Makoto the Merman.

            _Am I?_

_Am I the man who Makoto the Merman loves, Makoto?_

            Makoto lets his hand fall from the glass. A stream of light cuts quickly into the room, and Haru turns to see a green-shirted staff member holding the exit door open.

            “All right, if you’ll all kindly exit the exhibit, we have to allow the next group to come in,” says the staff member, and then he looks at Haru, and his eyes widen.

            The rest of the crowd does not move. They are speaking loudly again, several talking to Haru, but he ignores them as the green-shirted staff member is also talking to him.

            “You – You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, pointing.

            “Can you let me into the arena?” Haru asks, stepping forward, around the people that have crowded around him. “I need to talk to him.”

            “Are you kidding me? You’ve got to get out of here, do you even know the amount of trouble you’ve caused? Do you? There are people trying to shut down the entire aquarium, you know?” the guy is saying, widening the door, letting more light stream into the room that is supposed to be dark.

            “I really need to talk to him,” Haru insists, and he hears some of the people around him –

            “Let them talk!”

            “Are you in love?”

            “They’re in love, I can tell!”

            “What will you say to him? Is it a him? It?”

            “Look, you’ve got to leave. Now. I’m calling security, sorry, man, but this has gotten really serious, you know?” the staff member is saying, and the people boo as if they are watching a television show, as if this is not reality, and Haru thinks maybe it’s not, the dancing reflection of the tank on his shoes makes him think that maybe it’s not.

            His heart pounding against his chest, however, assures him that yes, this is real, nothing has ever felt more real than this, than the way he feels for the merman behind the glass, and he needs to tell him, he needs the merman to know.

            The staff member has pulled out a walkie talkie, and Haru glances back at the tank, sees that Makoto is still watching him, is still looking at him sadly, his massive tail swishing the water slowly underneath him, his arms limp by his sides, his bangs drifting in front of his weighted green eyes.

            Haru pushes his hood from his head. Takes off Nagisa’s fake glasses and tucks them into his pocket. He weaves around the people until he is in front of the glass, ignoring the staff member yelling at him to step away, ignoring the people thrusting their newspapers at him, asking him to sign his picture.

            “Makoto,” he says, and he presses his hand to the glass.

            The merman looks at it for a long time, and Haru waits, feels his heart beating too hard, shaking his pulse over his entire body, even up to his fingers that press against the glass, and he hopes Makoto can feel it too, shaking the water around him, the water that touches every inch of Makoto’s skin so maybe it might feel as though Haru is touching him too.

            But then Makoto is looking above Haru’s head, and Haru thinks he’s looking at the green-shirted staff member, wants to tell Makoto he doesn’t have to worry, he doesn’t care about that, he doesn’t care about any of it, none of it matters, but the glass is between them and even though sometimes he does not have to speak, he swears Makoto can tell what he is thinking, Makoto is closing his eyes, and then the merman is shaking his head, and Haru doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter because someone is gripping his arm and pulling him away from the tank.

            “Haru, come on, we’ve got to go now,” says a voice in his ear, and it is Rin; Haru turns and looks at him with surprise.

            “Rin?” he asks, as Rin drags him out of the room, past the staff member who is still talking on his walkie talkie.

            “Everyone knows you’re here. Nagisa and I heard, we ran over,” Rin is saying, and Haru realizes that Rin is out of breath, wonders how he has the strength to drag him away from the exhibit and down a hall to where Haru knows the shark exhibit is.

            “This isn’t the exit,” Haru mutters numbly, but Rin just shakes his head.

            “Doesn’t matter, we need to get you away from there,” Rin says, and Haru waits for the _What the hell were you thinking, Nanase?_ but receives silence instead.

            Inside the shark exhibit, Rin drags Haru behind a pillar, and they stop to watch the sharks swimming by the large glass walls.

            “Why are we waiting here?” Haru asks, but Rin shushes him, shakes his head, looks as though he’s catching his breath, so Haru lets him.

            The shark exhibit is empty but for him and Rin, and Haru wonders why before realizing – everyone has probably gone into the direction of the Makoto the Merman exhibit, trying to catch a glimpse of the man from the photograph.

            “Where’s Nagisa?” Haru asks, after a minute of letting Rin catch his breath, and Rin glances at him.

            “Lost him in the crowd. There’s a million people here, it was near impossible to get to you. Everyone is freaking out, Haru. I guess I knew this was a big deal but – It’s serious, Haru, this is serious. With all this happening, with you coming here – It’s not just a photograph anymore, you see? People are saying it’s something real. They’re talking about the merman like it’s a man locked in a tank, put on as a spectacle, imprisoned – all that stuff the activists were saying, but it’s not just activists now, it’s everyone,” Rin says.

            _People are saying it’s something real._

            Haru watches the sharks swim slowly by. They seem unconcerned despite the fact that, apparently, everyone is freaking out.

            “Haru,” Rin says, and Haru turns away from the sharks.

            Rin stares at him in a searching way.

            “It is something real, isn’t it?” he asks, quietly.

            Haru does not respond. He wonders why Makoto did not put his hand against his on the glass.

            He wishes he did.

            “It’s okay. Of course it’s – I mean, it’s not normal, but – I’m sorry about what I said before. About – well, you know. We’re – no matter what, we’re friends, and I – Haru, I care about you, and I do want you to be happy, and if this is it, then that’s, I mean, that’s fine. That’s good.”

            Haru stares. “Did Nagisa yell at you?” he asks, after a moment, and Rin laughs, runs a hand through his hair, and his expression relaxes.

            “Yeah, he did. But I do mean it, you know,” he says, grinning his shark-toothed grin that Haru grew up with.

            Haru nods. _I know, Rin._

            “Hey!” calls a breathless voice, and both Haru and Rin turn to see Nagisa running towards them, clutching his side.

            “Took you long enough!” Rin snaps, while Nagisa leans against the shark tank to catch his breath.

            “We gotta go, the news crews heard you’re here, Haru, and they’re looking for you,” Nagisa breathes, and Rin curses under his breath.

            “Put back on your hood and glasses,” he tells Haru, who obeys.

            It’s stupid disguise, but it’s better than nothing.

            “I need to talk to him,” Haru says to Nagisa quietly, as they walk carefully through the shark exhibit, Rin having gone ahead to keep a look out for camera crews.

            Nagisa glances at him, his expression softening. “I know,” he says softly, and to Haru it sounds like an apology.

            Haru feels Nagisa grabbing his hand, looks down as Nagisa squeezes his palm quickly, but Nagisa lets go before Haru can say anything.

            “Let’s go, Haru,” he whispers, as they catch up to Rin, and together they walk out of the dark halls of the shark exhibit into a light that seems too bright.

*

Three days later, Haru knows better than to sit on the couch, where he will no doubt just suffer another elbow in the ribs.

            Instead, he hovers in the doorway, glancing at the clock on Rin, Sousuke, Ai, and Momo’s microwave.

            The internationally aired live broadcast of Makoto the Merman answering questions, regarding – according to the article in the newspaper the day before – both his first completed year in human society as well as the newly erupted scandal concerning that Olympic Gold Medalist Nanase Haruka, starts in three minutes.

            Haru doesn’t know how he feels about watching the broadcast in front of his friends. He doesn’t know how he feels about watching the broadcast at all, in truth.

            “You are rather pale, Haru,” says a quiet voice, and Haru glances to his left to find Rei adjusting his glasses, offering him a wane smile.

            “I’m fine,” Haru replies.

            “Of course,” Rei says smoothly, and Haru looks closer at him, notes that his shirt is wrinkled, that his hair is longer than usual, that he’s rather pale too.

            He looks into the main room, where Nagisa is talking to Ai, glancing over at Rei every couple of seconds, but if Haru thinks about it, he hasn’t seen them talk to each other yet.

            Nagisa usually cannot shut up, but the one time he needs to say something, he clearly is unable to.

            Rei is usually first to offer facts, but the one fact that Haru is certain he feels most strongly about, he clearly cannot speak.

            It never made sense to Haru, in the years since Haru has known both Nagisa and Rei, since they have been playing this ridiculous game.

            Now, Haru thinks he understands.

            He understands how hard it is to speak with a heart pounding so loud it seems as though even a shout will not be loud enough.

            He understands the impossibility of coherence with a pulse paying no mind to the usual rhythm it should be employing.

            He understands the fear of drowning.

            The television is turned on, and Rin flips the channels before Ai chastises him, takes the control from his hand, puts on the correct channel.

            “Hey, sit down, you’re blocking my view,” Rin snaps at Sousuke, who’s standing in front of him, and then Rin is pulling Sousuke back by his t-shirt, and Sousuke trips back, falls on Rin’s lap, and Haru watches, but Sousuke does not even blush, he does not even stammer, he just pushes Rin back, shoves him over and makes room for himself on the couch.

            Rei leaves Haru’s side, goes to sit on the armrest of the couch on the opposite side from Nagisa, while Nagisa turns and catches Haru’s eye.

            “There’s room, if Rin moves his big butt over,” Nagisa says, but Haru just shakes his head.

            The television is already too close.

            Nagisa offers a small smile, then turns back to the television, and Haru watches the program start with a short segment that Haru remembers watching exactly one year ago, the very first newscast revealing to the world that a merman had been discovered, caught, revealed under the name _Makoto._

            The fishermen who found Makoto are interviewed, and then Haru watches himself on television, footage from the Olympics followed by ten seconds worth of the _Whale of a Kiss_ photograph plastered across the entire screen, which cuts to interviews of activists, then an interview with the aquarium manager, who refuses to answer most of the questions he is asked on the grounds that Makoto the Merman will be allowed to talk for himself, as –

            “Contrary to the horrendous rumors, we are not in fact inhumane to our favorite new member of the team, and have no desire to silence Makoto.”

            Rin snorts loudly, and then the camera is spanning the arena where the _Whale of a Kiss_ took place, where Makoto the Merman will make his first official statements to the entire world.

            A podium of sorts has been placed inside the tank, on the edge of the steps where Haru sat and watched Makoto backstroke around the pool, and behind the podium is Makoto the Merman, half his body out of the water and the rest hidden in his tank.

            Haru knows him to be massive, his tail large and even frightening, his torso tall for a human, but in the screen he looks small, behind the glass of the camera lens he looks nervous, and then he’s looking up at the camera, and Haru clenches his hands in fists to keep from digging his fingernails into the doorframe.

            “Hello,” Makoto the Merman says into the microphone attached to his half-submerged podium, and Haru closes his eyes, pretends he is in that arena, that Makoto is speaking only to him, can feel the voice coating his skin, submerging him like cool liquid that quickly warms.

            Makoto clears his throat while Haru stares into the darkness of the underside of his eyelids and thinks about how strange it is that the aquarium is letting him do an international question-and-answer broadcast when they were debating even allowing the general public to listen to him say a few small statements.

            “My name is Makoto the Merman, and please let me start by apologizing for my Japanese. I have been in the human world for one year as of today, and thank you for your hospitality. I will now answer your questions, please,” Makoto says, blinking quickly, a hand reaching up to swipe his hair from his eyes, and Haru can see that he is shaking.

            He does not want to watch anymore. He does not want to hear anymore.

            But he has not seen Makoto in three days, so Haru cannot move, holds his breath so that he does not miss a syllable.

            The first question is in another language – English, Haru thinks, trying to remember the cadence of different languages from the Olympics – and Haru is surprised that there are international representatives at the broadcast, but perhaps he should not be.

            Makoto the Merman is not only extraordinary for Japan. He is extraordinary to everyone – of course he is.

            There is a translator present, who repeats the question to Makoto in Japanese.

            “What is your opinion on the activists who claim your captivity in an aquarium is inhumane?”

            Makoto smiles his smile that Haru has seen countless times.

            “I appreciate their concern, but I have been treated very kindly by everyone,” he says warmly, stretching his smile – not quite enough to reach his eyes, but it’s still warm, and Haru is still amazed by it.

            Despite the warmth, Makoto’s answer makes him feel a bit sick, and Haru wraps his arms around his waist, squeezes tight.

            He notices that the bell he could never ring that was supposed to summon Makoto for his meals has been removed from the arena completely.

            “By one person in particular, am I right?” someone calls out from the audience, and Makoto blinks, his smile faltering, but he quickly recovers it, and Haru squeezes his waist tighter, thinking maybe if he squeezes tight enough, he’ll disappear.

            “May I take the next question?” Makoto asks, and Haru watches his chest rise and fall, thinks that the rate of their breaths are about equal – fast, shuddering, too shallow.

            “Tell us about Nanase Haruka!” someone calls out, and Haru exhales along with Makoto.

            Makoto licks his lips, glances away from the camera at something or someone to the left of the screen, but then he is looking back at the camera, and Haru cannot tell what he is thinking – it is so strange, not to know what he is thinking, and Haru is worried because of it, doesn’t want to listen because of it.

            “Nanase Haruka worked in my exhibit for about a month,” Makoto says carefully, looking straight into the camera without any emotion – how strange his face seems, and Haru thinks that for the first time, Makoto the Merman does not quite look as though he is part human at all.

            A question is asked in another language, followed by some laughter and a brief pause from the translator, who then asks slowly, “Was he paid to kiss you?”

            Haru closes his eyes again. He does not care what they say about him, but to put Makoto on the spot, to ask him these things, to act as if he has no right to a private life –

            But then, what private life can be lived behind a glass tank?

            “No, he was not,” Makoto answers quietly, and his voice shakes.

            “Haru, if you want us to turn it off,” Ai starts, but Haru shakes his head, opens his eyes for his friends, sees that they are all staring at him over the couch.

            “I need to watch,” he replies, as if his eyes hadn’t been closed, and no one objects.

            “Then why is there a picture of the two of you kissing? Is it a fake photograph?”

            Makoto tilts his head, emotion slipping into his expression in the small crease between his eyebrows. “I’m sorry. Fake?”

            “Not real,” the translator murmurs, and Makoto nods, the confusion smoothing away to leave the remaining emotionlessness again.

            “The photograph is real,” Makoto says.

            “Why were you kissing Nanase Haruka?” someone else asks, hardly letting a second of silence pass after Makoto’s answer.

            Makoto blinks at the camera, and Haru remembers how long his eyelashes were up close, how soft they felt, brushing against his skin when Haru leaned closer to him just for the sake of feeling them.

            He wonders if someone will ask Makoto the Merman about the softness of his eyelashes. It doesn’t seem impossible. They don’t seem to care at all, to censor themselves.

            “I would like to – I would like to explain the kiss that is in your newspapers and on your news,” Makoto begins, and Haru waits for the aquarium manager to step in, to cut him off, but nobody intervenes.

            The room is completely silent, but for Makoto’s soft breaths into the microphone that Haru can feel on his cheeks, on his lips, inside his mouth, down his throat.

            His hair is drying, Haru notes, and he thinks that he has rarely seen the brown so light, he has rarely seen Makoto with the top half of his body out of water for so long, and wonders if Makoto is uncomfortable, maybe they should let him submerge for a few moments, take an intermission – it seems like a good time for an intermission.

            “I have come to understand, living in your world for a year, that human emotions are very – ah – the word – compart? Complicate? Complex.” Makoto swallows, and again his gaze slides to the left of the camera, and Haru wonders what he could be looking at, what makes his expression harden the way it does, what makes his eyes lifeless when they train again at the center of the camera, staring through the television right at Haru in a way he has never looked at him before.

            Haru wants to close his eyes again, but he does not.

            “I am not the same as a human. A kiss – It is something very nice, it is done for pleasure, but there is no meaning to it in the world where I come from,” Makoto finishes, and the silence of the arena disappears, many questions are asked at once, and Haru cannot distinguish them, but he is unsure whether the fuzziness he hears is inside his head or not.

            “We should turn it off now,” Rin is saying, quietly, but Haru shakes his head.

            “Leave it. Please,” Haru says, so it is left on as someone in the arena calls for order, then allows Makoto to call on another person for the next question.

            “Are you saying you are incapable of emotion?”

            Makoto smiles a small smile that makes Haru feel nauseous. “I do not think so. But my emotions are not quite like a human’s. I am hungry when I want food. I am happy when people visit my exhibit,” he lists, in a way that sounds robotic to Haru, that does not sound like Makoto, does not sound like the warmth Haru knows.

            “What are your emotions towards Nanase Haruka? Are you able to feel love?”

            Makoto licks his lips again, laughs quietly, shakes his head so that his drying hair shifts in front of his eyes. “I am grateful towards Haru – towards the former staff member Nanase Haruka – for letting me experience the feeling of a kiss. I do not know what love feels like. I do not wish to be compared to a human. The – ah, the rumors that I am capable of such emotions, that I feel a certain way for Nanase Haruka – they are, as you say, fake. I am deeply sorry for the confusion this has caused. I did not understand what a kiss could mean in the human world until a few days ago.”

            Haru is not quite aware of his own breathing anymore. He must be doing it, as he is still standing, he is still alive, but he can’t quite feel himself inhaling, he can’t quite feel himself exhaling.

            All he can feel is small, and he thinks he might have squeezed his own arms around his body too tightly, clearly he was stronger than he thought, he has compressed himself, it hurts and he doesn’t know how he could have been so foolish as to think disappearing would be a good thing.

            “So you’re not gay?” someone else is asking, and Makoto glances away from the camera, presumably at the speaker.

            “I’m sorry, what is gay?” he asks.

            “When a male has romantic feelings for another male,” the translator explains, while several people laugh at Makoto for not knowing such a thing even though Japanese is his second language, even though Makoto is extraordinary and surely this is obvious.

            Haru focuses on unlatching his fists from his sides, relaxing each finger, letting his arms drop loosely by his sides, but he still feels as though he is being compressed, squeezed, his chest crushing his lungs and heart, his organs cramming into each other, crashing into bones that pinch each other and the muscle surrounding them.

            “I do not have romantic feelings,” Makoto is saying, and Haru isn’t looking at the television anymore, he isn’t looking at anything anymore, his eyes have closed again but even the darkness isn’t dark enough.

            “All right, one more question then, Makoto, is that okay with you?”

            “Yes, that is okay.”

            There is a pause, and Haru squeezes his eyes tighter, trying to make the dark darker.

            “Makoto, this is your chance for freedom. Please be honest – after a year of being here, do you want to stay in this aquarium, or do you want to go back to the ocean?” someone asks.

            Haru thinks about pressing his palms against his eyes – surely that will make the dark darker, surely that must help.

            He listens to Makoto inhale. He listens to Makoto exhale.

            “I truly believe,” Makoto the Merman says, after a few more breaths, words careful and precise, “that I belong here.”

            Haru tries to lift his hands, to press them against his closed eyes, but he cannot move, and on second thought, considers that maybe darkness is not such a comforting thing anyway.

*


	8. Chapter 8

It was Rin’s idea to drink, and maybe that is why he is the most plastered.

            Although Nagisa makes a strong case for second, and has flung himself across Haru’s lap, surprisingly heavy.

            “Is Rei here?” Nagisa asks, for the twenty-fourth time.

            Haru has been counting. Counting keeps him distracted.

            Haru is not drunk. He emptied the glasses Rin kept pouring for him in the sink until Rin got too drunk to pour him anymore.

            Drinking, Rin said, would help, but Haru doesn’t think it will, he doesn’t think anything will, and even though it seems doubtful that he could feel worse than he currently does, he’s never really liked alcohol and the way it makes everything heavy, fuzzy, slurred.

            “He left, Nagisa,” Haru replies, for the twenty-fourth time, and Nagisa sighs as he has been doing, loudly and sadly.

            “Why?” Nagisa says quietly, lips moving against the knee of Haru’s jeans.

            “I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” Haru says.

            Usually, he would not bother to carry on this conversation – especially not twenty-four times.

            But right now, he likes the repetition of it, the way he can predict what Nagisa will say, the way he can voice the words he has already voiced twenty-three times thus far, the way he does not have to think, he only has to perform this role he has been performing of a friend who is _fine_ , who is not breaking slowly, squeezing gently, shrinking into nothing by the second.

            He waits for Nagisa’s reply, worries for a second it won’t come, but then it does, and Haru sighs his relief.

            “He is lovely, did you know that?” Nagisa asks, fingers curling around Haru’s arm, which he has been gripping for about fifteen minutes since he fell on Haru.

            Haru wonders if Nagisa feels as though he is still falling. Maybe he does. Maybe that is why he won’t let go.

            “Yes, I know,” Haru replies quietly, but halfway through, Nagisa interrupts him.

            “Hey, Haru, is that you?” he asks suddenly.

            “Yes,” Haru exhales.

            “Is Rei here?”

            Because the conversation has become so routine, Rin stumbling into the television and nearly knocking it down does not distract him from continuing it for the twenty-fifth time.

            It does cause Ai, however, to emerge from wherever he had been before – in the kitchen drinking with Sousuke, Haru thinks – and coming over to chastise him.

            “Rin, careful!” Ai says, pulling Rin away from the television.

            Rin laughs, and Haru watches as his body sinks into Ai’s.

            From where Haru sits on the couch – which had been pushed into the corner of the room instead of across from the television by Rin about a half hour before for no apparent reason other than that it suddenly seemed like a good idea for him to redecorate in his drunk state – he can see both Ai and Rin and also into the kitchen, where Sousuke sits at the counter, a nearly-empty bottle of vodka in hand.

            Sousuke is watching Rin, but then, Rin is hard not to watch, as he has just started singing, and continues until Ai puts a hand over his mouth.

            “Rin, shh. Maybe you should go to bed,” Ai is saying, pushing Rin off of him while trying to keep a hand over his lips.

            Meanwhile, Nagisa says quietly, “Hey, Haru, is that you?” and Haru replies, “Yes,” and then they are onto round twenty-six.

            “Nitori,” Rin is saying, as Ai holds him up with hands on his shoulders.

            “Matsuoka,” Ai laughs back, and Rin grins a sloppy grin, swaying.

            “’Member when you called me sennnnnpai?” Rin asks, reaching out, and Haru watches him touch Ai’s hair with shaking fingers.

            Haru feels Nagisa’s fingers curling against his arm and glances into the kitchen.

            Sousuke is resting his elbow on the counter and his chin in his palm, his expression unreadable as he watches Rin and Ai. With his other hand, he lifts the bottle of vodka, swigs until it is empty.

            Haru thinks that maybe he should get up now, but Nagisa has just started round twenty-seven, and getting up would end the routine, would force Haru to think other thoughts than the easy exchange he and Nagisa have created, and Haru isn’t ready to trust his thoughts with anything else but these words he knows are harmless, these words that don’t have to do with the crushing feeling in his chest.

            “If you call me senpai, I’ll tell you a secret,” Rin slurs, and Ai just shakes his head.

            “I thought you hated that,” he says, and Haru watches Rin’s fingers trickle down from Ai’s hair, fall against Ai’s lips, pause there, and Rin is staring at Ai in a way Haru has to look away from.

            “I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” Haru says, to Nagisa, as he is supposed to in response to Nagisa again asking why Rei left, and then he turns to look into the kitchen again.

            He is relieved that Sousuke no longer sits at the counter, but has gotten up and is rummaging through the cabinets.

            “Rin…I think you’re a little too drunk,” Ai is saying quietly, and Haru glances back at him to see that Ai has his hands wrapped around Rin’s wrists, is pulling Rin’s hand away from his lips.

            “Yeah,” Rin sighs, while Nagisa slurs, after the longest pause yet – “He is lovely, did you know that?”

            “Go drink some water,” Ai says, pushing Rin gently in the direction of the kitchen, and when Rin nods happily and stumbles away, Ai puts his own fingers to his lips before shaking his head and walking down the hall in the direction of the bathroom.

            “Is Rei here?” Nagisa asks (twenty-eight), while Rin crashes into Sousuke, who is opening another bottle of vodka.

            It’s a bad idea, Haru thinks, and he should push Nagisa off his lap, get up, go into the kitchen and intervene, but instead he stays where he is and whispers, “He left, Nagisa.”

            “Careful,” Sousuke is saying, grabbing Rin, pushing him onto the stool next to his.

            Rin reaches for the bottle of vodka in Sousuke’s hand, but Sousuke slides it away on the counter.

            “I think we should cut you off,” Sousuke says, and Haru is grateful, maybe the situation is under control, maybe he can stay seated under Nagisa’s weight and not think about anything a little longer.

            Rin points at Sousuke happily, grinning his sloppy grin. “Sousuke!” he announces, his voice loud from the kitchen, and Haru can see Sousuke’s smile back, reluctant but still enough to crease his eyes.

            “Drink water, Rin,” he says in response, while Rin pulls the ponytail from his hair and throws it waywardly behind him.

            Rin laughs. “Hey, Sousuke, guess what?”

            Sousuke drinks a sip of vodka from the bottle, grimaces and wipes the back of his hand over his lips.

            “Haru isn’t the only one with a crush,” Rin says, and Haru freezes, forgets his line for a second, but then he feels Nagisa’s curling fingers, and he exhales his relief.

            “Yes, I know,” he says, like he is supposed to, as Nagisa has just told him Rei is lovely again.

            Twenty-nine, he thinks, but maybe it’s thirty – has he lost count?

            He contemplates, remembers – twenty-nine, definitely twenty-nine.

            “Rin – ” Sousuke is saying.

            “I have a crush,” Rin interrupts, in a dramatic whisper.

            It is time to get up, to push Nagisa off of him, but Haru cannot. They have just reached thirty repetitions of this same conversation, and just the thought of stopping this careful routine is making Haru’s hands shake, so he stays where he is, listens to Nagisa’s breathy whispers against his knee, concentrates on the familiar words and on repeating the lines he does not have to think about.

            “You’re twenty-five years old,” Sousuke replies, after a long pause.

            Rin leans closer. “So?”

            Sousuke leans back. “Your breath reeks, Matsuoka,” he says, and Haru wonders if he’s trying to change the subject.

            “You had a crush on me,” Rin says, abruptly, and Sousuke glances away from him, looks at the counter.

            Haru watches his hand tighten around the clear bottle. He knows if he moves he will have to think again, he won’t get to distract himself with the easy lines of his looping conversation with Nagisa, but he cannot sit still any longer, and shifts under Nagisa’s surprisingly heavy body.

            Nagisa’s hand tightens around Haru’s arm, nails digging deep into his skin, and Haru freezes.

            “Is Rei here?” Nagisa asks, and this time he sounds scared.

            “Nagisa – ” Haru murmurs, breaking their routine, and Nagisa’s fingernails dig deeper.

            “Is Rei here?” he repeats, and he sounds so desperate Haru has to reply, “He left, Nagisa,” after which he feels Nagisa’s fingers relax against his arm.

            He realizes that maybe Nagisa needs this routine too. Maybe he is also trying to distract himself. Maybe he is also keeping count of their careful repetitions that act like a pause on their lives – if they continue living in this moment, it is as if time has stopped, as if they have found a loophole, a way to keep reality from continuing, a way to briefly delay the squeezing of their chests.

            Rin and Sousuke, however, exist outside their loophole, in a reality that won’t stop continuing on, and Rin is now saying, “Sousuke, I want to confess to my crush too. How’d you do it?”

            Sousuke looks up from the counter now, watches Rin carefully. “Is this a game?” he asks finally, and Rin frowns in a comical way.

            “Why?” Nagisa is asking, from within their pause from reality, so Haru replies as he is meant to, and they continue their own game.

            “No. No, this is real,” Rin is saying.

            “Rin – ”

            “Please,” Rin says, cutting Sousuke off. “I need to tell you a secret – I need to tell you about the guy I have a crush on.”

            Sousuke’s hand falls from the bottle. Haru watches it hit the counter.

            “A guy?” Sousuke asks, sitting up, and then he nods, slowly. “Okay. Tell me a secret,” he whispers, but Haru can still hear him clearly, wishes he couldn’t, he thinks about asking Nagisa to speak louder, but that isn’t part of their routine.

            Rin smiles, tucks his hair behind his ears, but it falls forward quickly, covers half his face.

            “He’s one of my best friends,” Rin says, his smile faltering, “so I’m worried about what he’ll think.”

            Sousuke’s fingers stumble on the counter. He opens his mouth, but doesn’t say anything.

            “And he’s…” Rin mumbles, trailing off, his arm slipping against the counter and his head falling into the crease of his elbow, and Haru is grateful, maybe he will sleep, maybe he will be silent.

            But instead – “Rin,” Sousuke says softly. “Tell me more about him.”

            Rin laughs softly into his arm, hauls his head up, blinks blearily at Sousuke and smiles lazily.

            “I was his swim captain,” Rin whispers in a conspiratorial way, and Haru thinks about pushing Nagisa off his lap, but they’re on round thirty-three, and Haru needs this, he needs this pause from reality, he needs to stop his rib cage from squeezing his chest because it _hurts_ , thinking about what happened _hurts_ , and if he keeps repeating the same thing over and over nothing has to hurt, it doesn’t, Haru truly believes it doesn’t.

            “I live with him,” Rin says next, and Sousuke’s fingers curl into his palm, and he leans forward.

            “Rin, I can’t – If this is just a game – ” he says, and his voice is strained, and Haru knows he shouldn’t be seeing this, but he can’t close his eyes because he doesn’t want darkness anymore, he can’t stand the darkness anymore.

            Rin is shaking his head, his hair flopping over his face. “Not a game. It’s not, it’s not, tell me what to do, Souuuuusuke,” he murmurs, and leans closer too.

            “Why didn’t you tell me before?” Sousuke asks, sounding sad but also hopeful, and all Haru can think of is Rin’s fingers on Ai’s hair –

            “Nagisa, you need to get up,” Haru says, and he pushes the limp body slung over his lap, and again, Nagisa’s fingernails are deep in Haru’s skin.

            “He is – He is lovely – He is lovely,” Nagisa is slurring, desperate, but Haru needs to get up, pushes him, and when Nagisa’s weight shifts, he takes his warmth with him, and Haru is suddenly cold.

            He thinks about Makoto’s expression, how cold it was, and he freezes, concentrates on the feel of Nagisa’s fingertips in his arm, the pinch of it.

            He can’t move. He needs to, he needs to go into the kitchen, he needs to pull Rin away from Sousuke, whom he’s leaning much too close to, but he can’t move anymore, he can risk feeling colder.

            “I didn’t know how, I didn’t want to ruin, I didn’t – ” Rin is saying, quietly, and Sousuke is shaking his head, is leaning closer, is lifting his hand and his fingers tuck Rin’s loose hair behind his ears in the way Rin could not.

            “Nagisa, get up,” Haru says again, but it doesn’t matter because Nagisa doesn’t get up, and Sousuke leans forward, and then Haru is watching one of his friends kiss the other while Nagisa asks softly where Rei is for the thirty-somethingth time – Haru cannot remember, he has lost track, their pause on reality is gone, but Haru cannot even think about his squeezing chest because then Rin is pulling back.

            “Why did you do that?” Rin’s asking, voice hollow, and Haru finally manages to push Nagisa off of him, catching him so that he doesn’t fall on the ground and carefully sliding around him, leaving him on the couch, tilting his head sideways in case he throws up.

            Before Haru can make it to the kitchen, however, Ai appears from the hall, in just sweatpants and a toothbrush in his mouth, walking into the kitchen as he asks, “Do we have any mouthwash?”

            “What?” Sousuke asks, to Rin, whom he is now staring at in a frightened sort of way, but it is Ai who repeats himself.

            “Mouthwash. We’re out, and – ”

            “Why did you do that?” Rin asks again, fingers on his lips, eyebrows creasing together, leaning backward on his stool in a precarious way, and Ai steps forward.

            “Hey, careful, you’re going to fall. Didn’t I tell you to go to bed? Come on,” Ai sighs, pulling Rin up, slinging one of Rin’s arms around his bare shoulders, and Rin turns to look at him.

            His shark-toothed grin is immediate, erasing any trace of the tension from a second before, and it’s so obvious, of course Sousuke sees it, it’s too late, but now he’s forced to see it.

            Haru understands, as he watches Sousuke’s recognition, that Sousuke must feel as though he is disappearing.

            As though his chest is compressing. As though his organs are being crushed, as though his bone structure is squeezing in on itself.

            Haru understands this feeling, he really does.

            “It was you,” Sousuke says quietly, to Ai, “all along. It’s always been you. I never expected it. Shit, I never expected it,” he says, and he laughs the hollow laugh Haru heard sitting beside him on the ledge of the pool while the reflection of the water danced merrily across his face.

            “What?” Ai is asking, but then Rin’s feet appear to give out from under him, and Ai quickly catches him around the waist, pulls him up. “Oof, Rin, hold on – Sousuke, are you okay? What’s always been me?”

             Sousuke just shakes his head, waves a hand at Ai, takes a long slug of vodka, then coughs, his fist tightening around the neck of the bottle.

            “Sousuke – ?” Ai starts, but Sousuke holds up his hand.

            “I’m fine, just put him to bed before he passes out,” Sousuke mumbles, and Ai looks at him a second longer, then nods and drags Rin – who has his face buried in Ai’s shoulder – from the kitchen.

            “Smell nice…toothpaste…Do we use Crest, like Nagisa’s tooth–toothpaste? For the best kisses?” Rin is asking, voice muffled as Ai half carries him down the hall, and then they disappear into a doorway, and Haru finally moves.

            As he walks slowly to the kitchen, Sousuke is standing up, taking another swig of vodka then slamming the bottle on the counter.

            “Shit,” he says, covering his face with a hand.

            “Sousuke,” Haru murmurs, in the doorway of the kitchen, and Sousuke’s hand drops.

            “Oh, it’s you. Look, I gotta,” Sousuke gestures randomly, then stumbles forward, past Haru, to the front door. “I gotta go.”

            “You live here,” Haru reminds him quietly, but then he thinks that Sousuke probably remembers this – this isn’t the problem, and Haru knows it.

            “Yeah, well,” Sousuke mutters, shoving his feet into his shoes, forehead bent against the door.

            “Sousuke – ”  

            “Can you not – ”

            “Stay at my place. I’ve got a sofa. Where else will you go?” Haru asks, stepping forward, waiting until Sousuke looks at him.

            When he does, his eyes are empty, and Haru thinks of Makoto unwillingly, again, tries to stop, but it’s too late, his chest is squeezing, he feels himself disappearing again.

            He tries to keep himself grounded. He tries to concentrate on Sousuke, focuses on the way his jaw clenches, the jerkiness of his reluctant nod.

            “Yeah, yeah, okay. Fine,” he slurs, and Haru nods back, grips Sousuke’s sleeve, helps him out the door.

            The air is refreshing, cool enough to revive Sousuke so that he doesn’t need Haru’s hand on his sleeve to guide him as they slowly make their way to Haru’s house through the depthless black of the night.

*

Haru’s phone rings, waking him up, and he reaches out groggily, picks up without looking at who it is and presses the phone to his ear under his blanket.

            “Hmm?” he murmurs.

            Rin’s alarmed voice is immediate and panicked. “Haru, Sousuke’s missing and – ”

            Haru opens his eyes, pulls his blanket off his head. “He’s here. Rin, he’s okay, he’s at my place,” Haru interrupts quickly, and he listens to Rin’s stream of curses, his exhaled relief.

            “Thank god, shit, he’s – shit,” Rin mumbles, sounding breathless, and Haru sits up in bed, pushes his hair from his forehead, glances at his clock and notes that it’s near noon.

            “Is Nagisa okay?” he asks, remembering, and Rin stops in the middle of another stream of curses.

            “What? Oh, yeah, he’s – He’s fine. Sousuke wasn’t here, and no one knew – I had no idea – Shit,” Rin says again, and Haru nods into the phone.

            “He’s here, Rin,” Haru says again.

            There’s a pause, then, “Haru – I – I think I fucked up,” in a whisper, and Haru nods again.

            _Me too._

            “Oh, but – Are you, I mean, what about you? How are you, you know, doing?” Rin asks, and Haru slides back down in bed, pulls his blanket back over his shoulders.

            “Fine,” he murmurs.

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

_Are you okay?Are you okay?Are you okay –_

_FineFineFineFineFine –_

            “I have to go,” Haru says, interrupting something Rin is saying – He doesn’t know what, he doesn’t really care.

            “Oh. Right, yeah. Sure. I’ll see you then.”

            “Yeah,” Haru replies, then hangs up, pulls the blanket back over his head, wishes he could fall back asleep.

*

Sousuke says scrambled eggs are the best cure for a hangover.

            Haru does not point out the fact that he is not hungover. He lets Sousuke pile two plates with scrambled eggs, thinking he wouldn’t be able to eat anyway, it’s better that he’s not wasting mackerel.

            They prod at their plates in silence for a while, neither eating, and Haru thinks of asking – _Was the couch okay?_ – but he doesn’t because it’s such a useless question, no one really cares if the couch was okay, the couch is not the problem in the slightest.

            “I was thinking we could go for a swim,” Sousuke says, finally, after the eggs in their plates are so mashed up and rearranged it’s hard to figure out what to do with them anymore, “but then I remembered I can’t, and you probably wouldn’t want to.”

            Haru glances up from his scrambled eggs, surprised, and Sousuke catches this, shrugs.

            “I’ve seen you swim. Before and after. You just don’t seem to like it anymore,” he says, shrugging again as if in apology, like he’s sorry for having noticed.

            Haru puts down his fork. He tries not to think about swimming with Makoto, how it was better for a brief while, and is grateful for Sousuke’s interruption of his thoughts a moment later.

            “I thought it was you, you know. For a long time, I thought it was you,” Sousuke is saying quietly, back to his eggs, and Haru looks carefully at him, is confused, thinks maybe they’re still talking about swimming until he realizes they’re not – of course they’re not.

            He puts his glass of water to his lips but doesn’t take a sip.

            “You two were so close, and I was stupid and recklessly jealous,” Sousuke murmurs, to the scrambled eggs that might help his hangover if he ate them, but from what Haru can tell, he hasn’t even taken a bite.

            They’re cold now anyway. Maybe Sousuke can make more, just so that they have something warm to mash up, move around their plates, refuse to eat.

            Sousuke shakes his head slightly. “A few days after I confessed, he mentioned in an offhand way that there was someone else – not cruelly, but just, to deter any hope or something, I guess. And I thought – ” Sousuke looks up at Haru now, expression blank. “I never thought it could be Ai. I never even noticed.”

            Haru nods.

            _I know how it feels not to notice something that is surely obvious._

_I know how it feels to want something that has no desire to be wanted._

“I was kidding myself,” Sousuke says, almost wondrously, like he’s surprised to come to this conclusion, to see how well it fits.

            Haru clenches his jaw.

            _I was kidding myself._

            Sousuke’s phone lights up between their plates on the table, but doesn’t ring, and Haru wonders when he put it on silent.

            It’s Ai.

            Sousuke glances at it and exhales. “I should feel guilty. They could be worried.”

            Haru shakes his head. “No, they called me too, I told them you’re safe.”

            “Oh. Well,” Sousuke says, still looking at his phone. It stops lighting up, then does again a second later, this time a text alert.

            Sousuke traces a finger against his lips, then prods his phone with the same finger, typing in his code and opening the text.

            Haru turns away.

            “Oh,” Sousuke says again, and Haru glances at him, sees he has picked up his phone and is looking closely at it.

            Sousuke meets his gaze, searches his face, and Haru wonders what he’s searching for, doubts he’ll find it in the emptiness that Haru feels, the hollowness he knows has settled.

            “Ai sent a picture of today’s newspaper headline,” he says finally, and Haru nods, understanding.

            He doesn’t want to see it. He should tell Sousuke this, but when he opens his mouth, no sound comes out, just a limp breath, an excuse of an exhale that feels cool and pathetic against his lips.

            Sousuke puts his phone back on the counter between their plates, slides it over closer to Haru’s plate, giving Haru the chance to look at it if he wants.

 _I was kidding myself,_ Haru thinks, just as a reminder, just to brace himself.

            He glances down at the phone even though he doesn’t want to, grateful that Sousuke has gone back to staring at his eggs.

            _Merman on the Market?_

            In the few sentences that are visible in the picture, Haru reads that an American aquarium has made a generous offer to buy Makoto the Merman, and his current aquarium is considering.

            There is a photograph, but it’s cut off in the picture Ai sent, all Haru can see of it is fluffy locks of brown hair, and he can imagine the rest, so easily, he can imagine the rest.

            He reads the headline again. _Merman on the Market?_ and wonders if they considered other headlines before choosing this one. Maybe they considered, _Whale for Sale?_ before someone finally pointed out that Makoto is not part whale, he is part orca, and an orca is actually a member of the dolphin family.

            Haru finds himself relieved that at least the editors did not mess this up again, at least one thing has been done right.

            “I’m not trying to compare myself here, Haru, don’t get me wrong,” Sousuke says, while Haru continues to stares at _Merman on the Market?_ “But – Sometimes I wonder why the hell I’m living with him. If he was across the fucking world – if he was just across the freaking street, you know – It might be easier, then. Maybe.”

            _It might be easier, then._

            Sousuke does not sound as though he believes it in the faintest, but Haru still nods.

            Because there is nothing else to do, he picks up a fork, takes a bit of his scrambled eggs, and they are cold and mushed up and awful, but then Sousuke is eating his too, and they do not stop until their plates are completely empty and they can feel – at least for the moment – a little less hollow.

*

The issue with _Makoto on the Market?_ is that it raises questions of Makoto the Merman as something to be _owned_ , which goes back to the idea that even if he cannot _love_ that doesn’t mean he is _property_ , and besides no one is putting _psychopaths_ in cages, so really, what does emotion have to do with anything, he is still part man – and so the activists are back with their picket signs, and even though emotion apparently doesn’t have anything to do with it, half the signs still have the _Whale of a Kiss_ plastered to them.

            “And I thought it was bad enough that you saw mine,” Sousuke says, on their way to the movies – which neither of them really care to see, but it’s something that can at least act like a distraction – and Haru glances at him from behind Nagisa’s fake glasses that Sousuke said he’d better wear, just in case.

              _Saw your…?_

            He looks at where Sousuke is looking, sees the _Whale of a Kiss_ , realizes that Sousuke knows he saw him and Rin in the kitchen.

            “I wanted to stop you – Nagisa was – ” Haru starts, in a lame excuse because it would be useless to try and explain the loophole he did not want to break out of, but Sousuke interrupts him.

            “I’m glad you didn’t,” is all he says, and Haru looks at the photograph of his face and Makoto’s, at the _Whale of a Kiss,_ and no matter how much he wishes he regretted it, he doesn’t.

            The ticket ripper at the movie theater recognizes Haru; Haru can tell because he’s been recognized before – not for a _Whale of a Kiss_ , of course, but for his gold medals – but the movie theater employee doesn’t say anything, just stares, and Haru murmurs his thanks and feels stupid in his glasses and takes them off the minute he and Sousuke sit in the very back of the theater.

            It’s an action movie, the fourth in the series of action movies that are all the same – no plot, lots of guns and car chases – and Haru can’t really follow it, hasn’t even seen the previous three, but he likes the loudness of it, the way the gunshots are near deafening, looks forward to when a car crashes into another, hopes for explosions.

            He’s never really liked action movies before, but he and Sousuke are sneaking into another theater after this one, and both men grin at each other when they realize it’s another one with guns – no car chases this time, but there are a few knife fights, and Haru pays attention to the fake blood, how real it looks, he wonders what they use – watered-down ketchup? Some kind of dye?

            When it ends, Sousuke has fallen asleep, and Haru nudges him gently on the arm.

            “What happened?” Sousuke asks, groggily, as they make their way out of the dark theater, using the lights on the edges of the stairs to guide their way, and Haru thinks.

            “The guy with the beard killed himself,” he says, and Sousuke glances at him as they emerge from the theater into the bright hall, and then he’s laughing, and Haru stares, wondering what’s so funny because that _is_ what happened, but then he’s grinning too, accidentally, covering his mouth and turning his head and thinking they really should eat something.

            “We should eat something,” he says, as Sousuke keeps laughing, so hard he has to stop and bend down and rest his hands on his knees, letting the other people exiting the theater mill around him.

            “They all had beards, Haru,” Sousuke says, as they exit the movie theater and walk towards the family restaurant beside it.

            “That was the first movie,” Haru argues, although now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure.

            “I fell asleep, and I remember more than you,” Sousuke says, shaking his head, opening the door for Haru, and they choose to sit at the small bar, flashing their IDs in habit before ordering waters.

            There’s a small television on the end of the bar, and it shows the news, and Haru watches himself standing on the center podium in his swimsuit with a gold medal around his neck, staring at the camera in an empty way.

            “I might start training for the next Olympics,” he says, not realizing what he’s saying until he says it, but by then it makes sense, it seems logical, something he should do.

            “That’s stupid,” Sousuke says, despite Haru’s quick reasoning, and Haru glances at him, sees that he’s also looking at the television, which is now showing that damn _Whale of a Kiss_ again.

            Haru, for a second, isn’t sure whether Sousuke is calling the _Whale of a Kiss_ or Haru’s statement stupid, but Sousuke is quick to clarify.

            “I mean, you hated it, didn’t you? Just cause training might take your mind off things doesn’t mean you should do something that made you miserable.”

            Haru accepts his glass of water, waits for Sousuke to tell the waiter they’ll need more time, then replies. “I wasn’t miserable,” he says.

            _I was fine._

            “Sure, and those movies we saw today are going to win awards. Seriously, Haru, we’re not all stupid, you know. Say you’re fine like you always do, whatever, but it’s not entirely normal to win gold after gold, and then – ” Sousuke cuts himself off because no one ever says it, but no one ever gets as far as he did either, so Haru pushes him.

            “And then what?” he asks, quietly, to his water.

            Sousuke takes a sip of his own water, swallows, sighs. “Nothing.”

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

            _I’m fine._

            “Rin told you,” Haru says, not a question because he knows it.

            “It’s not his fault,” Sousuke says, quickly, leaning forward. “We all knew something had happened, we were just worried, he was just worried, it’s not like we were talking behind your back or – We were all just worried.”

            “I was just stressed,” Haru says because it’s what he said to Rin when Rin pressed, when _I’m fine_ wasn’t enough, and he might as well keep his story straight.

            “Yeah,” Sousuke responds, nodding. “Look, pick something to order, I’m starving,” he says, and Haru is grateful that they can change the subject.

            When the waiter returns, they order, and Haru also asks if he’d mind changing the channel because the news station announces that after the commercial break there will be a recap of Makoto the Merman’s international broadcast, and even though Sousuke said they could leave, Haru doesn’t want his previous _I’m fine’s_ to be doubted any more than they already are.

            He doesn’t inform the waiter of this, of course, just waits patiently as he glances at the television in confusion, then stares back at Haru, who does him the favor of taking off his fake glasses.

            “Oh. Right, I’ll see what I can do,” the waiter says, and then he runs off to speak with the bartender, who glances at Haru, then nods, and the channel is changed to a soccer game that cuts for a commercial break.

            Haru replaces his glasses to see a young couple in bed, listens to the faint tune of “You Are My Sunshine.”

            “I really was impressed with that, Nagisa did well,” Sousuke says also watching the familiar commercial, and Haru nods his agreement as his phone rings.

            He fishes it from his pocket, and it’s Rin.

            “You can take it, you know,” Sousuke says, glancing at him and rolling his eyes, so Haru picks up.

            “What is it?”

            “Is Sousuke still with you?”

            “Why are you calling me? Just text next time,” Haru complains.

            “Answer my question!”

            “Yes,” Haru sighs.

            “What, have you kidnapped him? What the hell have you two been doing all day?” Rin snaps, and Haru can hear Ai’s voice in the background, telling Rin to calm down.

            “What does it matter to you?” Haru replies.

            “I need to talk to him, and you’re holding him hostage,” Rin complains angrily.

            “You’re being an idiot, Matsuoka. More than usual, even. I’m hanging up now.”

            “Normal people talk their problems out, you know! You better not be teaching him your sacred art of silence or I’ll fucking kill you, Nanase!” Rin shouts, and Haru hangs up on him.

            “I’ve never heard so much nonsense from one person. Sometimes he’s worse than Nagisa,” Haru complains, and Sousuke laughs.

            “Yeah,” Sousuke says, in a wistful way. “He’s a nightmare, Matsuoka is.”

            They down their water like it’s alcohol.

*

The walk back to Haru’s passes Sousuke’s place, but he doesn’t turn down the street, and Haru doesn’t ask him to. At Haru’s, they stop by the mailroom, and along with the usual bills and flyers is an envelope without a stamp.

            It simply says, _HARU_ , in a careful scrawl.

            “Who’s that from?” Sousuke asks, peering over Haru’s shoulder, and Haru shrugs.

            He opens it in the elevator while the girl riding up with them flirts with Sousuke, telling him she’s never seen him before, informing him she lives in flat 514 and he should pop by later, she’s always loved getting to know new neighbors.

            Sousuke smiles and informs her he is just visiting a friend while Haru slips his finger under the flap and tears.

            “You could visit another friend,” the girl says, and Haru glances at her while Sousuke laughs, sounding nervous.

            She’s pretty, he thinks, and clearly very bold. Sousuke rubs the back of his neck, and then the elevator doors open, and she touches Sousuke’s arm.

            “Hope to see you,” she says, before she walks out, and when the doors close, Sousuke turns wide eyes on Haru.

            “Did that just happen?” he asks.

            “Are you going to visit her?” Haru asks back, and Sousuke laughs again.

            “God, if Rin had seen that he would have laughed at me for days.”

            “I could tell him. He might be jealous,” Haru replies, and Sousuke laughs again in a surprised way, pushing Haru out the elevator when the doors open on their floor.

            “Asshole,” he mutters. “Never knew you were such an asshole, Nanase, Rin was right about you.”

            Haru shakes his head, lets them into his apartment and finally looks inside the envelope.

            He freezes in the doorway of his apartment, reaches into the envelope, pulls out its contents.

            “What are you – What is that?” Sousuke asks, backtracking to stand beside Haru again, reading the card Haru holds carefully in his fingers over his shoulder. “M the M, FULL ACCESS,” he reads, slowly. “M the – ? _Oh._ Oh.”

            It can’t be from the girl who trained him, or she would not have taken his card from him in the first place. So it must be from whoever stole his card from his wallet, whoever took the picture, and the thought isn’t that surprising.

            The photographer was more than likely an activist, or they would not have used the FULL ACCESS card only to take a picture of Makoto at what could be viewed as his most human point. Now, to return the card to Haru, the photographer probably hopes that Haru will pursue Makoto, will try to see him again, will prove that Makoto is indeed capable of emotion.

            It’s a trap, and Haru knows it, is well aware that this card may lead to another photograph in the newspapers, but he doesn’t really care at all.

            Because the card, more than anything, leads to Makoto the Merman, and no matter what Makoto the Merman is capable of feeling, Haru the Human is helpless to his own emotions.

            It would be easier if he was not.

            It would be easier if he was fine.

            But none of this is supposed to be easy – Nagisa said it himself, that it is _hard_ – to be in love is hard.

            _I am in love,_ Haru realizes, and it should be shocking, but it isn’t, and he thinks that maybe, this is where he belongs – for the first time in a long time, he is where he belongs.


	9. Chapter 9

He waits until the next day even though he’s ready to head to the aquarium the moment he reads M the M, FULL ACCESS.

            But he needs to plan. He cannot get caught.

            In the morning, Sousuke is splayed haphazardly on Haru’s couch, and Haru wonders vaguely if he’s supposed to leave him a note, not used to having housemates, but decides not to – if Sousuke is worried, he can always text, after all.

            He’s going to need a change of clothes, at some point, but Haru isn’t really sure how long Sousuke plans to stay.

            If it’s longer, Haru would be fine to pick up stuff from Sousuke’s place for him, but he has a feeling Rin will throw a fit.

            He is contemplating Rin’s schedule, thinking he could try to pick stuff up for Sousuke when Rin isn’t home – mostly to distract himself from thinking about what he’s about to do – when he runs into Rin himself, standing outside Haru’s building.

            “What are you doing here?” Haru asks, walking to his car.

            “Where’s Sousuke?” Rin demands, following him.

            “What is wrong with you? He’s a grown man, leave him alone,” Haru says, getting into his car, and Rin slips into his passenger seat.

            “I’m concerned about my friend,” Rin says, while Haru stares at him.

            “Get out of my car,” Haru says.

            “No.”

            “Rin.”

            “Haru.”

            “Matsuoka!”

            “Nanase!” Rin snaps back, and Haru clenches the steering wheel tight, then loosens his grip.

            “Rin, I have something to do. Sousuke needs space. Give it to him. You are not his mother.”

            Rin leans across the seat, puts his face in Haru’s, and Haru pushes him back.

            “No, I’m not his mother, Haru, and I’m fully aware of that, thanks. Jeez, you always act like it’s wrong to be concerned about you, and now Sousuke – Fuck that, Haru! I’m sick of that! This is what friends do – It’s what friends are supposed to do! Be there for each other! Get in each other’s business – ”

            “No, actually – ”

            “ _Yes,_ actually, because it’s easy to be stupid, and to think stupid thoughts, and to convince yourself of things that aren’t true, which is why you need friends calling you out on your bullshit. I needed that, Haru,” Rin says, angrily, and Haru swallows his retort.

            He watches Rin carefully, as Rin deflates back against the passenger seat, running a hand through his hair.

            “I needed you guys, and you were there for me, and it changed me, Haru. If you hadn’t been there – I don’t know where I’d be. But before all that stuff in high school, I was really alone, and it was really awful, and I won’t let any of my friends go through that,” Rin says, and Haru stares at him.

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

            It had annoyed him.

            _I’m fine,_ he had said, but he’d wanted to yell, he’d wanted Rin to get out.

            He never realized why Rin said it, why he’d been so concerned, over and over, _Are you okay, Haru? Are you okay, Haru? Are you okay, Haru?_

            He forgot that Rin wasn’t okay once, too.

            “Rin… I understand. But it’s different now, with Sousuke. He needs some space. From you, especially,” Haru says quietly, to the steering wheel.

            “But if we talked about it – ”

            “How do you imagine that conversation would go, Rin?” Haru asks, looking up at his friend who can be so dense – _I’ll be the first to say Matsuoka Rin is as clueless as it gets_ – no matter how hard he tries.

            But he does try, Haru realizes. He always tries, that asshole Matsuoka.

            Rin blinks, his eyebrows lowering, and shakes his head. “I’d – I’d tell him – Make sure he knows that no matter what happened, I still – I mean, we’re still friends – ”

            “That’s not what he wants to hear from you,” Haru says softly, wondering what the hell he’s doing in his car, wondering why it even matters that he has an M the M, FULL ACCESS card, wondering what on earth he expects to hear from Makoto the Merman when he’s already heard everything, the entire world has already heard everything from Makoto the Merman on his relations with Nanase Haruka.

            Rin tucks his hair behind his ear, but of course, it doesn’t stay. “I can’t tell him what he wants to hear!” Rin shouts, angrily, hopelessly, and Haru closes his eyes.

            “Rin, I have to go,” he whispers, knowing he shouldn’t, there’s no point, he cannot be told what he wants to hear either, but he will go anyway, just to see him.

            _I need to see him, I need to see him, I need to see him._

            “Where are you going?” Rin demands.

            “Nowhere.”

            “You’re telling me not to do something stupid, right? So why can’t I tell you the same? Why’s it always double standards with you?”

            “I’m not doing something stupid,” Haru replies, opening his eyes and looking at Rin.

            “No? Then what are you doing, Nanase?”

            “Nothing. Telling you to get out of my car. Get out of my car, Rin, I’m serious.”

            “I will if you tell me where you’re going.”

            “I’m going to the aquarium. Now get out,” Haru says, but Rin doesn’t move.

            “Don’t go there.”

            “Get out, Rin, you said you would.”

            “Why are you going there? Wasn’t it bad enough over freaking television?” Rin asks, and then he blinks, leans back, opens his mouth again. “Shit. I didn’t mean – ”

            Haru looks away from him, out the front window. He felt himself disappearing until he received his full access key card.

            He does not regret his _Whale of a Kiss._

            He would not take back anything that happened.

            “Rin, I know you want to help. Thank you. But I – ”

            _But I’m only human. I need to see him, I know now that I am in love with him, I am only human, and I cannot help it, I do not want to help it, it hurts but it’s proof that I’m human and I need that, I need to know I belong somewhere._

            “I’m going to see Makoto. Please get out of my car,” Haru says again, slowly, carefully, and Rin looks at him for a long time, then nods.

            “Call me if you need anything,” he says, and he gets out, closes the passenger door softly, and Haru sees him in the rearview mirror, watches Rin even as he reverses out of the lot and drives away until his friend is out of sight.

*

It’s simpler than Haru thought it would be to sneak into the aquarium without attracting the attention of news crews, staff, activists, or the general public – who have by now surely heard of Makoto the Merman’s relations with Nanase Haruka – which Haru wasn’t really counting on, and it leaves him with too much time that he does not want.

            He spends most of this time in the jellyfish exhibit. It’s on the other end of the aquarium from the Makoto the Merman exhibit, so he hasn’t really been there much. Like the other exhibits, it is a dark space with light only projecting in soft waves from tanks that are mounted both in the walls and in pillars in the center of the exhibit. Haru trails along the walls first, watching as the crowd thins because he had to sneak into the aquarium when it was still open to the public – step one of the plan.

            Step two of the plan is to stay hidden in the aquarium even after it closes to the general public.

            Step three of the plan is to remain hidden in the aquarium even once the last of the day staff are sent home.

            Step four of the plan is to use his M the M, FULL ACCESS card to visit Makoto the Merman in the arena when there is only the night staff to avoid.

            It’s a horrible plan, Haru knows, but he was banking on not having much time to contemplate how horrible it was, thinking it’d be harder to sneak into the aquarium, it’d be difficult to keep people from recognizing him despite his worn disguise of Nagisa’s fake glasses and a hooded sweatshirt. He was certain his thoughts would be occupied with paranoia that he’d be caught, kicked out before step two had hopes of being achieved – but he was wrong.

            The jellyfish exhibit, however, is calming. Haru never gave much thought to jellyfish before, but he now he thinks he was wrong to overlook them, as they truly are beautiful.

            His first thought is that they are bizarre. He looks at them at first glance quickly, eyes roaming, hands in his pockets and head down, but then the dark of the room relaxes him, and he takes his time on his second walk-around to look carefully into the tanks, watch the floating creatures that have all been categorized as _jellyfish_ , but truly look nothing alike.

            Some are huge and stringy, with tentacles or tails or feelers – Haru’s not quite sure the vernacular – like unraveling clouds.

            Others are fragile, look hardly put together, their strings tangling in each other and thin as thread, their tops billowy and translucent and looking to Haru as though a breath would rip holes through them.

            Others are squat and sturdy, swim with a purpose that their neighboring drifters do not possess, their tentacles less like strings and more like the stumps of mushrooms, pulsing in and out, up and down, allowing their owners to bump into each other in a soft way, a casual nudge of the other occupants of the tank as they move along – always moving, these are.

            Some have brilliant colors, while with others, it seems like the color has been bleached out of them, like Haru is looking at an x-ray of a creature rather than the animal itself.

            There are informational plaques around the tanks, but Haru does not read them. He is sure he would learn whether they are in fact called tentacles or tails or strings or something else entirely, he is certain he would be educated on how their colors provide some sort of camouflage technique, but Haru doesn’t really care to know.

            Or, more than that, he is worried that the plaques will attempt to tell him about the brain structure of the jellyfish. Whether they even have brains. Maybe just neurons or synapses or something scientific like that. And Haru doesn’t want to know whether the beautiful things he watches with awe, now, are capable of thought. He doubts they can feel emotion, but he does not want his doubts solidified.

            He prefers not to know. The jellyfish, floating in their tanks, seem completely oblivious, and peacefully so.

            Haru watches them with longing, and so the hours pass.

            Announcements are made of the aquarium closing. People file out. Haru knows the schedule of the staff, the rounds they take to ensure every exhibit is empty, every bathroom is empty, every hallway is empty, and he makes his way around, dodging them so easily, too easily, he hardly has to think about it so instead he is forced to think about Makoto the Merman and the truth about his relations with Nanase Haruka.

            The day staff stays an hour after the aquarium has been closed to the general public. Easily dodged as well, too easily dodged, Haru is tempted to take off his glasses, to make this a challenge, to open himself to the threat of worry because then at least he wouldn’t have so much spare thought to offer Makoto the Merman and that damn broadcasted truth about his relations with Nanase Haruka.

            But he keeps on his fake glasses. The day staff leaves, or so the time suggests, when Haru glances at his phone. He wishes he were back in the jellyfish exhibit, but every exhibit is locked, so instead he sits on the floor behind a counter in the food court, tapping his foot against a Wet Floor sign in time with his breaths.

            His tapping gets steadily more rapid. He stands.

            It’s time.

            His legs feel more like the tentacles or tails or strings or whatever it is that jellyfish have, floating along beneath them, tangling in each other, than actual legs. He is not hiding as he walks to the Makoto the Merman exhibit. He is sure there must be added night security in front of the staircase that will lead him to the arena, is surprised at his own disappointment that he is not stopped, that no one is taking his M the M, FULL ACCESS key card out of his hand that is clenched so tightly around it he is certain his skin will break.

            He climbs the stairs slowly, lets his feet stomp loudly against each step, listens to every echo as it bounces off the rails, the white walls, the high ceiling, his own chest.

            At the top of the stairs, he waits. Listens. Thinks he hears the footsteps of someone coming, someone stopping him – they’re running, quick steps that pound the floor – but no, it is just his heart beat pulsing against his ear drums, relentless.

            He opens his sweaty hand, and his card has carved a line into his skin but the flesh hasn’t broken, and no blood leaks out.

            Haru slides his M the M, FULL ACCESS key card, hears the click of the lock, lifts a hand onto the door handle and waits for an alarm, but there is none, so he takes a breath and opens the door.

            The arena is dark. Almost ghostly, looks abandoned, cannot possibly be the place where Haru spent hours with Makoto the Merman in that bright white room, licking cinnamon sugar off the pads of his fingertips and feeling the water lap against his shins in familiar greetings and goodbyes.

            Cannot possibly be the place that was broadcasted on international television, where Makoto the Merman spoke the truth about his relations with Nanase Haruka – Haru cannot breathe, his breath catches in his throat, he presses his hand to his chest because he is lost, he thought he belonged here but he cannot possibly be in the right place, there are knives in his throat here, there is fire in his lungs here, there is no way out, there is darkness, and Haru is scared to death.

            But there is the bell. Haru sees it, next to the staircase where he sat while Makoto the Merman smiled his smile and ran his hand through his wet hair and it slicked back but for the clumps that would fall forward, some cutting across his droopy eyes that looked at Haru in a way that made Haru believe the truth about Makoto the Merman’s relations with Nanase Haruka were something else, something more.

            Haru walks towards the bell. The bell he could never ring. The water of the pool that is really just the top of a tank is not still, but shimmering, almost as if it is alive, and Haru takes off his shoes and socks, rolls up the cuffs of his jeans, steps into it and half expects it to grab hold of his ankles, pull him further in.

            It does not. So Haru steps forward himself, walks down one step, watches as the water reassesses its gentle waves, rearranges itself to fit Haru’s ankles into its composition, feels as it accepts him, first cool but slowly warming.

            Haru looks down into it, sees nothing but the depth of the water, but then there is a mass, a blurry shape of light color that gives way to desperate darkness, and Haru knows it is Makoto the Merman, watches the shape swim past below several feet of water, turns to look at the bell but does not ring it.

            Instead, Haru sits in the water, feels it soak through the fabric of his jeans. He rests his elbows on his knees and closes his eyes.

            He hardly knows Makoto the Merman. There is the smooth crinkle of his smile. There is the way his hair drifts underwater, soft and feathery and a darker brown than when it has had time to dry. There is the largeness of his hands. There is the broadness of his shoulders, the impressiveness of his torso, the massiveness of his tail, the way coarse tan cuts into startling white that is swallowed by depthless black.

            There is the way he laughs at the sweetness of cinnamon sugar on his lips. There is the rush of his voice, the way his whispers drizzle like soft mist, the way his words fall like hard rain, the way his lips open and no sound comes out, the way Haru can hear everything anyway.

            There is the curiosity of green eyes over Haru’s legs, his feet then shins then knees then thighs then hips then navel then chest then shoulders then neck then chin then lips then eyes then hair.

            There is the fumble of fingers over the plastic wrapper of chopsticks he doesn’t want to use. There is the grimace at the banana mango smoothie, the way he tries to hide this grimace, the lie of his – _It is delicious, thank you, Haru –_ the bite of his lips when Haru calls him out on the lie even though Haru doesn’t say anything aloud, he just thinks it, thinks, _You are lying, Makoto,_ and Makoto knows.

            There is the confession of a family. Of best friends that are his younger brother and sister. There is the smile that has a temperature even though smiles do not have temperatures.

            There is the crease between his eyebrows as he concentrates on Haru’s instructions for the perfect freestyle. There are the waves his tail creates in the pool. There is the wave behind the glass of his tank at strangers with _I heart Makoto the Merman_ t-shirts.

            There is absolute joy at the first taste of a French fry, the saltiness of it. There is a hand shaking over the surface of the water as he talks about the net that caught him, that he could easily have swam out of, that he could easily have escaped.

            There is an empty gaze into the camera while he is asked to tell the truth about his relations with Nanase Haruka, and there is the soft giveaway of lips opening against Haru’s, the taste of salt on his lips, the warmth of the ocean on his breath.

            Haru hardly knows Makoto the Merman. There is everything he cannot stop thinking about, but he hardly knows this merman, he cannot know this merman because if he knew this merman he would not feel so nervous, he would not feel so shy, he would not feel so scared, he would not stare at Makoto the Merman when Makoto the Merman finally surfaces as if he is something extraordinary because Haru would be used to him by now, if he truly knew Makoto the Merman, he would not be so amazed by now.

            “Haru,” Makoto the Merman says, and Haru does not say anything back because it is breathtaking that Makoto the Merman even knows his name, it is something amazing that Makoto the Merman even acknowledges his presence.

            There is wariness in Makoto the Merman’s expression. It keeps him halfway across the pool. It pulls his eyes together, it jumps along his jawline.

            “You should not be here, Haru,” Makoto the Merman says, and Haru nods.

            _Where should I be, Makoto? Tell me where to be, and I’ll go._

            Makoto glances away from him, down at the water. He swallows, and Haru watches his throat, thinks about how human he looks, how deceiving he can be, how beautiful he is.

            “I am sorry,” Makoto says quietly, and Haru still says nothing.

            _Why?_

            He cannot think of a reason Makoto the Merman has to be sorry. He has done nothing wrong. Haru thinks he may have fallen in love with Makoto the Merman the very first day, watching him behind the glass. He thinks he may have fallen in love with Makoto the Merman even before that.

            The smiles were nothing really. Swimming beside him had no effect. The feel of his lips were irrelevant, probably.

            “It is…complicated, the difference between a human and a merman. Our emotions – they are not the same. I do not know how to make them the same. If that has hurt you – It was not my intention,” Makoto the Merman says, his voice the softest drip of rain, still talking to the pool.

            _Do not be sorry to have hurt me, Makoto. I do not mind being hurt by you. Hurt me again. Hurt me again._

            “But you should not be here, Haru,” Makoto says again, and he looks up, and the arena is so dark Haru has a hard time seeing his expression this time.

            Maybe that is why he can finally speak.

            “Makoto,” he says, gently, not sure if his words will make it halfway across the pool, thinking it might be better if they don’t. “I understand. I don’t want to ask you to feel anything that you can’t, I don’t want you to say anything that you can’t. I know how it feels to be asked to feel what I do not know how, or to say something that I do not have the words for, and I don’t want to do that to you, I don’t.”

            Haru is not looking at Makoto anymore. He is looking at his ankles, at the waves breathing against his skin, at the inhales and exhales of water, at the heartbeats of the tank.

            “I just want to talk to you, just this once, just this last time, I would just like to tell you something that I have not been able to tell anyone, but I think it has to be you – I think it’s meant to be you, Makoto. Because the words in my head have never been a mystery to you even though sometimes they’re a mystery to me, sometimes I do not know how to get them out of my lips, but you put them against yours, so I want to give you these words, this truth – I think it belongs with you.”

            The pulse of the pool quickens, and Haru matches his breaths to it, closes his eyes and feels the push and pull of the water, pauses to push and pull the oxygen from his own lungs at the same rate.

            When they are matched, he speaks again, and he doesn’t have to force himself to speak – for once, it comes naturally. “It happened at the Olympics,” he says, words careful and deliberate, thinking about the way Makoto spoke on international television. “You were brought to this aquarium a week or so before the Olympics. Of course I’d heard about it – Everyone did. It was all over the news. But I wasn’t watching the news. I was training, every second of every day was spent in the water. I never liked swimming for competition before, or for any other reason than the feeling of being submerged, but my friend Rin – you met him, with the shark teeth – he made the idea appealing, and I tried it. I liked it. Training. Pushing myself. Finding another purpose for swimming other than just being in the water itself. It was not terrible. My friends thought that was it – But it wasn’t.”

            Haru opens his eyes. Watches the waves against his ankles now, but they are higher, have grown up to his shins, and Haru cannot tell if he is sinking or if the water is rising, climbing up the stairs he sits on.

            “It wasn’t the competition, Makoto. There were so many people there, people from all over the world. And with swimmers, particularly, there was one thing everyone kept talking about. It was you,” Haru says, and he looks up now, sees the reason for the growing waves, and the reason is Makoto the Merman, who has been swimming closer, the movement of his body rocking the water harder against Haru’s legs.

            He is inches away, now. Close enough to touch, if Haru were to reach out, but he does not, he keeps his elbows against his knees.

            “Makoto the Merman,” Haru whispers. “Everyone was talking about Makoto the Merman. The night before my first race, I saw your picture for the first time. Rin had just been talking to some American swimmers about you – they thought we knew things, because we live in Japan. They thought maybe we had visited you, but neither of us had because we had been training, too busy to even watch the news. So Rin looked you up online, and I saw you for the first time.”

            Haru does not understand Makoto’s expression. He does not try to. Humans and mermen are different, Makoto said. Maybe Haru the Human will never understand Makoto the Merman.

            _But you understand me, don’t you? I know you do, Makoto, I know you can._

            “All I felt, when I looked at you, were knives in my throat. All I felt was my lungs crushing. Rin was concerned, but I said it was nerves, and he let it go. Our first race was the next day, after all, but all I could think of, standing on the starting block, was that I was going to drown. I already felt as though I was drowning. I didn’t want to dive into the water – for the first time, I did not feel as though I belonged there.”

            Makoto the Merman opens his lips. Haru looks at them. He knows the way they feel. He knows the way they taste.

            He wants to forget, only so that he can feel them again, he can taste them again, and it will be like the first time.

            “The starting gun fired, and I dove in. I swam as though I was drowning. In practice, Rin and I would tie, or he’d be hardly a stroke behind me – But in the Olympics, you said you watched, so you know – I was well ahead of everyone, even Rin. It was because I was scared. I was frightened. I didn’t belong in the water, I could hear someone shouting at me – _Come on, Haru!_ – over and over, and I knew the voice was telling me to swim faster, to swim as fast as I could because only when it was over could I get out of the water again, so that’s what I did – I swam faster. I won every race. I won every gold medal. I kept diving underwater where I knew I did not belong, I kept swimming as fast as I could so I could leave it again. I kept hearing that voice, and it was like a lifeline, like a hand reaching in, pulling me out of the water.”

            _It was your voice, Makoto. Do you remember? Do you remember calling to me, yelling at me – Come on, Haru!_

_I remember. Why do I remember, Makoto?_

_How could I possibly remember?_

            Haru takes a deep breath. He is not used to talking so much, and his throat is dry. He licks his lips. He inhales and he exhales and he concentrates on the laps of water against his ankles that have calmed again, are gentle again, slow and shallow.

            “After every race, I could still feel the knives down my throat. I felt as though I’d swallowed half the pool, I felt as though the water was filling my lungs, so I stuck my finger down my throat and tried to get it all out. After every race. Rin caught me, after the last one, in front of the toilet.”

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

_Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

_Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

            “When I came home from the Olympics, I threw out my gold medals. I overswam and felt like drowning every time. I pushed myself. I didn’t stop because I was trying to make the water accept me again, I was trying to find somewhere that I belonged again,” Haru says, desperately now, staring up at Makoto, trying to make sure he understands.

            Makoto watches him silently. He has not tried to interrupt. He opened his lips, but Haru does not think he wanted to speak.

            “When I swam beside you, I did not feel knives down my throat. I felt the way I used to, when I swam. I felt free, Makoto. Beside you, I felt as though I belonged in the water again. Beside you, I felt safe,” Haru admits, carefully, slowly, deliberately.

            _Please be safe, Nanase Haruka._

            “Thank you, Makoto,” Haru says because that is what he came there to say, and Makoto swims closer, opens his lips again, and he should say, _You’re welcome, Haru,_ or, more appropriately, _You should not be here, Haru_ , but he does not say either.

            Instead, he says, “May I kiss you again, Haru?” and Haru knows that he is Haru the Human and Makoto is Makoto the Merman and their emotions may not have the capability to be the same and there may be another flash of lightning that is really the flash of a camera and tomorrow the newspapers may feature another _Whale of a Kiss_ , but he does not care.

            _Hurt me again,_ he thinks, but he does not say this, he does not say anything, he just nods and watches Makoto the Merman rest his hand on the step where Haru sits, watches his heavy eyelids close as he leans closer, and then Haru closes his own eyes, and in the darkness he feels open lips falling against his, speaking in silence the truth about Makoto the Merman’s relations with Nanase Haruka.

*


	10. Chapter 10

Haru doesn’t mind when Makoto pulls away because Makoto is pulling away only in order to pull down the zipper of Haru’s sweatshirt.

            Haru watches Makoto’s fingers pinch the zipper, watches Makoto’s eyes trail down along his own hand as he pulls down, watches Makoto breathe with his lips still parted as he pulls Haru’s sweatshirt from his shoulders.

            Haru slips his arms from his sleeves, lets Makoto throw his sweatshirt on the side of the pool, is going to pull off his own t-shirt, but Makoto beats him to it, so Haru is left to watch Makoto again, and looks at Makoto’s chest now, the rise and fall of it as his hands catch the fabric of Haru’s t-shirt between long fingers that brush warmly against Haru’s stomach and sides.

            Haru closes his eyes and lifts his arms as Makoto pulls the t-shirt over his head. He lets Makoto place his arms around his broad shoulders after the shirt is thrown beside the sweatshirt. Haru winds his arms up, runs his fingers through Makoto’s damp hair, slips down one stair and feels the thighs of his jeans soak as he pulls Makoto’s face closer to his, close enough to kiss, so he kisses it, the sides of his open lips, the hard slope of his jaw.

            Makoto’s hands run up Haru’s sides, and they are wet and warm, they are big and solid, and Haru slips down another step or maybe Makoto pulls him, he can’t really tell, he doesn’t really care. He wraps his arms tighter around Makoto’s shoulders, he weaves his fingers further into Makoto’s hair, he breathes louder against Makoto’s ear as Makoto’s lips and teeth and tongue tuck against his neck.

            The merman bites him. The merman sucks on his skin. The merman kisses the wounded flesh so gently, the merman whispers against the seals of his own kisses, and Haru closes his eyes, lets his arms fall loose from the merman’s neck, drips them down the merman’s back, feels the merman’s muscles with careful fingertips.

            He does not drop his hands below the merman’s waist. He knows that there is a tail below the surface of the water, but he does not feel for it. For now, the human portion of the merman is overwhelming enough, Haru can barely comprehend just this part of him, thinks that it will tempt fate to dive too far in so quickly.

            The merman, however, does not seem to be thinking the same, and Haru feels his hands trickle back down his sides, along his ribs, thumbs skating over his navel and falling against the zipper of Haru’s jeans, and Haru’s breath hitches against the merman’s shoulder.     

            He lifts his head, and so does Makoto, and they are kissing again with only lips, and it seems to Haru like Makoto is desperate, or maybe it is his own desperation, tugging on the merman’s lips, sucking too hard and bruising, mouth opening too wide and breaths coming too fast.

            He inhales hard, exhales deep, feels his chest falling, feels long fingers falling away from the zipper of his jeans, but then Makoto’s hands are on his thighs, one on each, starting by the knee and rising up, and Haru slides down, closer to the merman, wants the merman’s hands up higher, back by the zipper.

            Makoto makes a small sound onto Haru’s mouth, and it makes Haru freeze, it makes his hands stop – one had crept up to cup Makoto’s jawline, the other is feeling the muscles on Makoto’s side – it makes his breath catch, it makes his eyes open, and he watches Makoto fall back, just enough so that their lips are barely touching.

            Makoto’s eyes are still closed. His eyebrows arch up in the center, like a sad inquiry, and Haru wonders what Makoto is asking, wonders what permission he needs, so he whispers onto Makoto’s lips, _“Yes,”_ but Makoto doesn’t seem to understand because he kisses him too gently back, and his hands fall from Haru’s legs, and then he is pulling away completely.

            Haru swallows. Lets his hands fall from Makoto’s skin. They slap the water, and the sound is jarring and surprising, and Makoto opens his eyes in a slow, sleepy way.

            He opens his lips, opens his mouth, says something but no sound comes out.

            _Don’t stop. Come back. Makoto, just –_

            “I need to tell you something,” Makoto says, and Haru nods.

            _Tell me, then kiss me again. Tell me anything, as long as you kiss me again._

            “I need to tell you something,” the merman repeats, and Haru exhales slowly, focuses on catching his breath so he’ll have something to hold in his lungs the next time Makoto kisses him again.

            Makoto looks away from Haru, somewhere behind him, and Haru can’t help it, he turns, looks behind his shoulder, but of course, there’s no one there, so he looks back at Makoto, who looks back at him, and his expression is nothing, that familiar nothing.

            “I have asked to be sold to America. I am going to America,” he says, and the air is stolen from Haru’s lungs, but not in the way he wished, not in the way it was taken just a minute before.

            “You don’t have to go,” Haru says, without meaning to, and Makoto shakes his head.

            “Yes. I want to go.”

            “No,” Haru argues, surprising himself with his argument because he _knows_ Haru the Human and Makoto the Merman have different emotions, he _knows_ this, there is nothing to argue against, he has no reason to refuse Makoto’s statement.

            Makoto, also, looks surprised, but he blinks it away, and just the smallest crease is left between his eyebrows. “I do not mean to hurt you, Haru. But the way I feel is not – ”

            “How do you feel?” Haru demands, and he’s angry, he realizes, with even more surprise than before – he’s _so angry._

            Makoto blinks. “I am not human,” he begins, but Haru doesn’t let him finish.

            “I know what you are not. You have been saying what you are not, what you do not feel. Tell me what you do feel. Tell me what you are,” Haru says because he needs to know.

            _I am in love, Makoto. What are you?_

            Makoto looks at him, then looks away, down at the water that surrounds them both. “I am sorry,” he says quietly.

            Haru waits. He listens to the sound of both their breaths escaping into the air between them; they are still gasps, they are still shallow, they are still fast.

            “I like you, Haru,” Makoto says to the pool, and then he looks up, and he is biting his lip.

            _It is delicious, thank you, Haru,_ Makoto said, after his first sip of banana mango smoothie, and he bit his lip, and Haru knew he was lying, saw the way he tried to hide his grimace, wonders what Makoto is hiding now, wonders why Makoto feels the need to hide now when for the first time, Haru has no desire to hide anything, wants Makoto to know everything.

            _I love you, Makoto. I hardly know you, but I love you – Tell me why I love you._

            “But we do not make sense. A human and a merman. You and me.”

            _We do not make sense?_

_Stop lying, Makoto – Why are you lying to me?_

            Makoto shakes his head. “Let me do the right thing. I am going to America.” He smiles, then, his gentle smile, his genuine smile, but he cannot be happy, and Haru knows this, he does not know much about Makoto the Merman, but he knows this.

            “Why are you doing this?” he asks, over his heartbeat and their fast breaths.

            “Haru – ”

            “Why are you doing this?” Haru asks again because once wasn’t enough, he’s so confused, he’s so angry, he’s so heartbroken, and once is not enough.

            But then Makoto is angry too, Haru can tell in the way his shoulders rise, in the way he seems to grow out of the water, in the way it is not just his human portion breaking the surface but a bit of his tail too, and he is massive, Haru is reminded of how huge he is, how threatening.

            “Because I live behind a glass, Haru!” Makoto shouts, and the sound is loud in the arena, the echo of it raining down along with the rest of his words. “Because you hated seeing your picture in the paper even when it was just from the Olympics. Because our _Whale of a Kiss_ was everywhere, and you could not walk out of your house without a pair of fake glasses. Because I had to answer questions about my relations with Nanase Haruka on international television, because I knew you were watching and I didn’t care what they asked me, but I hated that it had to be about you when I know you are happiest when you are submerged, hidden underwater.”

            Haru shakes his head. He doesn’t understand what Makoto is saying, he doesn’t understand what Makoto is shouting, what this has to do with America, what his picture in the newspaper has to do with the way Makoto truly feels about his relations with Nanase Haruka.

            “Because when I am caught in a net I do not pull away,” Makoto says, and his voice drops, quiet now, barely a whisper, softer even than the echo of his previous words. “Because I do not want to hurt another fisherman, I do not want to hurt another human, I do not want to hurt you, Haru, I am meant to keep you safe.”

            “I can keep myself – ”

            “Because I live behind a glass,” Makoto says again, soft over Haru’s interruption, hardly a breath over Haru’s interruption. “Because I know what it is like to live this way, and I do not want you to live behind a glass too, and if I said the truth about my relations with Nanase Haruka on international television, they would not leave you alone, you would not have privacy, you would live like me, you would turn into something extraordinary, a spectacle, Haruka the Human instead of just Haru, and I will not do that to you. I will move to America instead of doing that to you,” Makoto finishes, and his gaze is hard, as hard as glass, and the thing about glass is that it can shatter, the thing about glass is that it is can break, the thing about glass is that it can hurt.

            Haru tries to think of something to say, but he has nothing, he is too scared to break the glass, so he says nothing.

            Makoto smiles his small smile – has the nerve to smile his small smile. “There is that thing human’s say – There are plenty of fish in the sea. Right, Haru?”

            There are other things that humans say, Haru thinks.

            _Some things are just the way they are,_ Sousuke said. _Can’t change it. It’s done._

            _When I’m with him,_ Nagisa said, _everything is right. And I can’t lose that._

 _It is something real,_ Rin said, _isn’t it?_

            _Yes, Makoto, you are right. But I have no use for any fish in the sea. I do not want a fish, Makoto._

            Makoto nods because of course he knows what Haru is thinking, of course he can tell. “I know, Haru,” he says softly. “I have – I have seen the sea, and I have seen the fish, and I know that there are plenty. But the truth about my relations with Nanase Haruka is that – ” Makoto licks his lips, swallows, and Haru closes his eyes. “The truth is that I would give up the sea and I would give up the fish for him. They asked me why I was kissing Nanase Haruka, and that is why, Haru. You are why.”

            Haru opens his eyes. He does not know if Makoto actually spoke aloud, he does not know if it was all in his head, he does not know if he momentarily fell asleep and dreamed these words, he does not know anything, but he doesn’t need to.

            “Don’t go to America,” he says again, and Makoto bites his lip as if he will lie again, so Haru doesn’t let him, instead he leans forward and kisses him, and the lie Makoto did not say is salty against his lips, like the first bite of a French fry.

            Haru cannot get enough.

*

It’s in the newspapers the next day.

            Not another _Whale of a Kiss,_ though Haru thinks he may have preferred that.

            Sousuke offers him the paper with a plate of mackerel after Haru’s morning shower.

            “Thanks,” Haru murmurs – for the mackerel – glancing at his friend, who wears a pair of Haru’s sweatpants and a borrowed t-shirt that is too small on his wider shoulders, and stretches across.

            “I’ll probably go home soon,” Sousuke mumbles, noticing Haru’s look, and Haru shrugs back.

            “It’s fine either way.”

            “Yeah, but Rin won’t fucking stop calling me,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair – he needs a haircut, Haru notes, thinking he’s never seen Sousuke’s dark hair so grown out that the front nearly covers his eyes.

            “I could pick up your clothes and talk to him while I’m there,” Haru offers.

            Sousuke merely looks at him. “Talking to him won’t really make a difference,” he says, and Haru nods once.

            Yes, he knows this.

            He slides the paper closer to him and reads the headline. _Makoto the Merman is Moving._

            He skims the paper for a date – Makoto the Merman’s scheduled date of relocation is in five weeks. He’ll be going to a place called Sea World in Florida, and they’ve already started construction on his exhibit, which will be double the size of his current tank.

            In the meantime, the article says, Makoto the Merman will be learning English in between making his farewells to the people of Japan who have come to love and cherish him.

            Haru slides the paper away from him. There is, of course, another picture of Makoto the Merman taking up half the front page; in this one he is smiling through the glass of his tank, his hand raised in a wave.

            “Five weeks, huh,” Sousuke says, and Haru glances up at him.

            He did not ask Haru if he used the M the M, FULL ACCESS card he received in the mail. He did not ask Haru where he was the day before.

            Haru appreciates this. He understands Rin’s reasons behind his over-attentiveness, but there is something to be said for the space Sousuke offers, and Haru can’t help but think of how different the two men are.

            Haru’s apartment buzzer goes off at that moment, and he stands, thinking it must be Rin and ready to yell at him over the intercom, but the voice that pours through as Haru presses the button is Rei’s.

            “Haru! I – I forgot to call, my phone, it’s, I have it, I do not know why I did not call, I apologize profusely for this intrusion, but if you will be so kind as to – ”

            “Rei, why don’t you just come up?” Haru asks, buzzing him in, and he lets go of the button halfway through Rei’s scattered thanks.

            He glances at Sousuke, whose eyebrows are raised. “He seems…”

            _Not like Rei,_ Haru finishes, and then there are three knocks on the door, so Haru opens it to a very disheveled and rather _un-Rei_ version of Rei.

            It’s a Sunday, but Rei is fully dressed as he would be for work, despite the fact that his button-up shirt is wrinkled, his cuffs unbuttoned, and his tie so loosely done Haru isn’t quite sure how it hasn’t fallen off yet.

            Rei, too, is still in need of a haircut, though his case is worse than Sousuke’s in that his dark hair could rival Rin’s length given a week.

            He also, Haru notes, has failed to shave, and dons a five o’ clock shadow that ages him, making him seem more _adult_ than Haru has ever seen him before.

            “Rei…”

            “Hello, Haru,” Rei says, and he adjusts his glasses, and Haru cannot help but exhale in relief at such a _Rei_ action, something to familiarize the stranger standing in his doorway.

            Haru moves aside, and Rei walks in.

            “Why are you dressed like that?” Sousuke asks, in greeting, and Rei glances at him.

            “It appears I mixed up the days. It is not Monday, it would seem,” he says stiffly, and Sousuke nods.

            “No, it’s not. Mackerel?” he asks, offering Rei the pan, but Rei just squints at it, then glances at Haru.

            “You shouldn’t be spreading such unhealthy nutritional habits,” he chastises, and Haru doesn’t even mind, is glad that Rei at least sounds like himself.

            “Is everything all right, Rei?” Haru asks, while Sousuke shrugs and empties the rest of the pan onto his own plate.

            “No, actually, it is not,” Rei says decisively, then he blinks quickly, fumbles with his glasses, and when he speaks again, his voice cracks. “I thought you could help me.”

            _Me?_

            “Him?” Sousuke asks, mouth full, pointing his fork at Haru, and Haru glances at him. “Oh, thorry,” he mumbles, and it occurs to Haru that maybe he and Rin aren’t as different as he thought.

            “Well, yes. After all,” Rei says, clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders, “Nagisa always claimed you were the expert on romance.”

            Sousuke chokes on his forkful of mackerel and quickly stares down at his plate, but Haru thinks he has a point.

            “I think that Nagisa meant someone else,” Haru says reasonably, but Rei shakes his head.

            “It’s you, Haru. He always said – since high school – that you knew more about romance than any of us.”

            “Weren’t you single in high school? And since then?” Sousuke asks, and Haru nods, unabashed.

            He has never wanted anyone else. Being single was never strange to him. Romance was never something he desired, or even thought about, really.

            “Although Rin did say you always were in love with water. But I thought he was kidding,” Sousuke muses.

            “I believe Nagisa,” Rei insists, staring at Haru, who doesn’t see a reason to argue.

            “How can I help you, Rei?” he asks instead, and Rei nods to the balcony.

            “May I speak with you about a serious matter?” he asks.

            “Oh, I’ll stay here,” Sousuke says loudly, and Haru just glances at him before following Rei out onto his balcony.

            It overlooks a parking lot, so Haru hardly ever uses it – especially since it is too small to even place a chair, so both men stand with their elbows against the rail, looking out at the cars below them.

            “Rei, despite what Nagisa may have thought, I don’t think I’m – ”

            “Haru, I know Nagisa often says strange things. But this – I’ve always agreed with him about you,” Rei says quietly, and Haru glances sideways at him.

            “I’ve never been in a relationship,” Haru points out, but Rei just takes his glasses off, wipes his frames on the fabric of his wrinkled shirt, squints through them.

            “What does love have to do with relationships?” he asks, quietly, and Haru stares.

            _What is going on, Rei?_

            He stays silent. He won’t pressure his friend, knows Rei will speak when he needs to.

            They stand in silence for three minutes before Rei sighs.

            “I am…unsure how to proceed,” he admits.

            Haru glances at the sky. It is the perfect blue for a Sunday morning, bright and unblemished from any stains of clouds.

            “With Nagisa?” he asks the sky.

            “It’s always Nagisa,” Rei exhales, sounding frustrated, and Haru doesn’t argue because he knows – everyone knows – that with Rei, it is always Nagisa, and with Nagisa, it is always Rei.

            The rail is cool against Haru’s forearms, and he shivers, wishing he’d worn a jacket.

            “I am consistently failing to see the logic of it. So I rationalized – perhaps a physical encounter would conclude his feelings, but I do not think this was the case.”

            A wind blows, and Haru pulls his shoulders closer to his body, presses his arms to his sides, feels the rail chill further under his skin.

            “Conclude his feelings,” Haru murmurs, testing the phrase on his own tongue to see if it will make more sense there, but it does not, so he glances at Rei, whose hair darts rapidly in front of and behind the frames of his glasses with the wind.

            Rei nods at him. “Oh, I have realized for a long time that Nagisa is in love with me. I am not stupid,” he says, with a small smile, and Haru knows this, everyone knows this – Rei is not stupid.

            But then –

            “And I love him too, of course. It is illogical – not that I am in love with Nagisa, no, that is very logical; the illogical argument is that he would love me. So I examined our relationship, realized that, yes, it could make sense. Nagisa has always been very passionate, adventurous, desiring to try new things. He is rather foolish with his heart, and for him to lend it to me, for a brief period, well, I suppose it cannot be said that such a thought is entirely _un_ reasonable. Relative to some of Nagisa’s other thoughts, that is,” Rei says, smiling again, a little wistfully now.

            Haru pulls his arms from the ledge, wraps them around himself, watches a car leave the parking lot, tries to understand his friend.

            “The lack of symmetry between our feelings has prevented me from acting on them until a few weeks ago with our brief physical engagement. Nagisa may feel this way about me, but I am not foolish enough to think it is permanent.”

            Haru looks up from the parking lot, stares at Rei’s profile. “Rei, that’s wrong – ”

            “No, actually. I am right,” Rei replies easily, glancing at Haru, adjusting his glasses. “I am not unreasonable. Love does not cripple the mind, and I can see what can only be practically expected from our relationship quite clearly. I do not doubt Nagisa’s feelings, nor do I wish to belittle them. But I know they cannot be equatable to mine – or if they possibly are in passion, then they definitely cannot be in time. If I will love him for eternity – which I undoubtedly shall – then he will surely only return these feelings for, well – you see, that is the problem, Haru. I’m not sure how it has lasted so long,” Rei admits, and Haru can see the frustration of his miscalculations in the crease between his eyes, in the way he fumbles with his glasses again after only just having done so.

            “You can’t just decide how long someone loves you,” Haru says, carefully, but Rei only offers a glance of confusion.

            “Decide? I did not decide. If I could decide, I would have – ” Rei cuts himself off, shakes his head. “Well, hypothetical desires hardly matter in reality.”

            “Then how can you say this about Nagisa? That’s not fair to him,” Haru argues, not as cold as before, letting his arms fall to his sides now, turning to look at Rei fully.

            Rei watches him carefully as the wind picks up, blows his hair back from his forehead. “I am not being unfair. I am being reasonable. I am looking at logic, at the facts, Haru,” he says slowly, as if he is talking to a small child.

            Haru grits his teeth, unsure of his own anger – no, he is sure of it.

            Rei cannot just decide his and Nagisa’s fates. It is not a one-person decision. Nagisa’s opinion should matter, what Nagisa wants – what Nagisa _needs_ – should matter.

            “What are these facts, Rei?” he demands.

            _Why are you doing this?_

            Rei smiles again, this time gently, and it reminds Haru of the smiles he received from lips that taste of salt.

            “The facts are simple, Haru,” Rei says lightly, but he’s not looking at Haru anymore, he’s looking out at the parking lot again. “Nagisa is extraordinary. He is brilliant. I am not foolish, Haru, I am not stupid. I am highly intelligent, I have very many qualities, and I will not undervalue them.” 

            Haru feels himself deflating. He falls against the railing, feels the cool of it pierce through his t-shirt, swell against his skin and chill his entire body.

            “Rei,” he murmurs, but Rei does not seem sad, and Haru realizes he has long since rationalized all of this in his head, categorized himself and Nagisa and accepted what he believes to be the most logical of truths.

            “But Nagisa,” Rei says, still at the parking lot, still smiling lightly, “is spectacular. It is simple. He is too spectacular for me. Those are the facts, and I understand them well,” he concludes and then he glances at Haru, looks at him quizzically. “I only cannot understand why he has not realized this as yet and moved his affections onto a more reasonable candidate.”

            His smile slips, and Haru swallows.

            “Have you told him this? What you think about him?”

            Rei tilts his head. “It is not a matter of my opinion that defines him, but no, I have not told him this. I am by no means a masochist. I like that – I like that he likes me. I just wish…” Rei shakes his head, narrows his eyes. “Hope is an irrational thing. I do not like having it. Or more, it would be better to have if I did not realize the futility of it.”

            Haru exhales, is surprised that he cannot see his own breath. “I don’t think hope is futile, Rei. And I don’t think you are right about Nagisa. If you told him what you told me, he would be very upset.”

            “I am not going to tell him,” Rei says, sounding surprised. “I know it would upset him.”

            Haru wraps his fingers around the cool railing, squeezes hard. “That’s not – ”

            “It’s all right, really, I don’t mean for you to worry that I am upset – ”

            “Well, you should be! Why does it have to be reasonable? Why can’t you just feel the way you feel, and let him feel the way he feels? You’re not sparing him anything, Rei. You’re making him miserable, can’t you see that? You claim to understand him, he sees you as his best friend, as the one person who really knows him, so why can’t you see that?” Haru shouts.

            His breathing is too loud, and he knows that, he can tell, with each breath that escapes, but he doesn’t know how to make them quieter.

            Rei is staring at him, eyes wide behind his glasses, hair scattering wildly in the wind that has picked up now, is tugging Haru’s t-shirt against his body, is bristling the skin of his knuckles where it stretches tight over the bone because he still can’t let go of the railing.

            Haru thinks he should apologize, but he is spared from having to, as there is a soft knock on the door to the balcony, and then Sousuke is sliding it open, peering out at them.

            “Everything okay?” he asks gently, looking at Haru from under his bangs that have grown too long.

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

            Haru is too tired to lie.

            “No,” he says, staring at his friend, wondering why he even has to ask when he’s wearing a shirt that’s too small for his broad shoulders, when Nagisa said eternity but Rei won’t believe him, when Makoto the Merman is being sold to America.

            Nothing is okay, and Haru finally realizes that even pretending it is can’t make it so – that maybe nothing can make it so.

*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, super sorry about the delay, i was out of town for a few days and wasn't online at all to post the new chapter, but i'm back now and things will be back on schedule! hope you guys like the chapter! :)

That night, Haru dreams of drowning.

            It’s not a recurring dream, and really, it isn’t a dream at all.

            It’s a memory.

            Haru is a boy and foolish and stands on the dock begging, reminding the fisherman of his promise – _Maybe next time, kid –_ and it’s been at least ten next times.

            Haru doesn’t know why the fisherman finally agrees. Doesn’t know how one day he is watching the boats leave the harbor without him yet again, and now he is on one of the boats himself, the fisherman strapping the life jacket over his thin shoulders.

            _Stay in the middle of the boat, got it?_

            In Haru’s dream, nothing happens in order. One moment, there are knives dragging across his throat and the entirety of the ocean around him, pulling him, pushing him, and the next moment he is standing in the center of the rocking boat, watching the sky, a clean slate grey bursting with darkening clouds.

            The boat rocks harder. The clouds split like there are knives slitting their bellies, and then those knives are in Haru’s throat and the ocean is not around him but inside him, filling his lungs. His eyes are wide but there is no sky, there is only darkness on all sides, but he is not confused.

            Haru knows what is happening.

_Hold onto the ropes, kid, storm’s coming!_

The ropes were icy and thick under his palms, tore at his skin, but he doesn’t know if he’s bleeding now.

            It doesn’t really matter if he’s bleeding now. What matters is that he is drowning.

            _Haru!_

            At first, it is the fisherman’s voice, rough and grating, calling out to him, swallowed by gusts of wind and then waves of crashing ocean, swallowing everything along with it – the boat, the fisherman’s voice, the fisherman himself, and now Haru.

            _Come on, Haru!_

The calls of the seagulls are loud, then far away. Haru watches the sky darken, but he isn’t scared.

            He has never been caught in a storm before. He does not know as yet, that storms are something to fear.

            _Storm coming!_

            When the fisherman announces the storm, he does not sound scared. He sounds excited. He does not turn the boat around, but keeps going forward, like the storm is something to pursue, something to chase after, and Haru is just a boy, just a foolish boy, does not know that it is not the storm the fisherman is after, it is not the storm that the fisherman caught sight of at the surface of the water, peering up at the boat, worrying with heavy-lidded eyes and a dark tail, hidden underwater.

            _Come on, Haru!_

_Come on, Haru!_

            Haru wants to listen to the voice. The new voice is not like the fisherman’s. It is not grated and rough, it is warm and smooth, and Haru wants to obey, tries to swim, but he cannot, he is being pulled under water until there is something else pulling him – _someone else_ , he thinks, but he cannot be sure, as his organs have squeezed to nothing, there is water filling the cavities of his chest, there are knives in his throat and lungs, and he is gasping, he is gasping, he is going to be swallowed up just like the fisherman was, he is going to die.

            _Come on, Haru!_

*

In the morning, Sousuke is not splayed across Haru’s couch.

            He is not in the kitchen making breakfast, nor is he in the bathroom.

            And while he may have simply went out early, maybe to the pool to do water aerobics, maybe on a walk to get fresh air, Haru believes none of this.

            He knows Sousuke has gone home.

            Haru brushes his teeth, splashes his face with water, then sits at his kitchen table.

            He is not hungry. He holds his M the M, FULL ACCESS card in his hand, rotates it between his fingers.

            He went to see Makoto the night before, and he will go again tonight. They didn’t speak last night, not of America. They spoke of other things, Makoto finding words to fill the silence in that way he does, and Haru didn’t mind.

            They spent some time kissing, and Haru still didn’t touch the orca part of Makoto, was still overwhelmed with just the human part of him.

            Makoto will go to America in five weeks. Haru knows this. He is not in denial. He accepts it.

            But he has five weeks, and he has an M the M, FULL ACCESS card, and, for now, he has Makoto the Merman.

            It is enough, to keep him afloat.

*

There is a month left before Makoto goes to America, and Haru asks him if he would like to learn another stroke.

            “Not freestyle?” Makoto asks.

            “There are other strokes too. Butterfly and breaststroke.”

            They are taking a break from swimming laps beside each other. Haru sits on the steps with water lapping at his ankles, and Makoto is in front of him, his torso out of water and his arms bent, his palms flat over the surface of the water as if it is glass.

            “Butterfly. A bug with wings,” Makoto says, then says something else in a strange way – a different language, Haru realizes, and a second later he realizes the language is English, the language he has been learning in preparation for America.

            Haru looks away from Makoto, stares at his knees, the drops of water stuck on his skin.

            _Don’t, Makoto._

            “I am sorry, Haru.”

            Haru exhales. He closes his eyes. He is tired, spends his nights with Makoto the Merman and does not sleep much during the day when his friends flit in and out of his apartment as though they are on shifts, checking in on him in a way they pretend is casual, but Haru knows is not.

            It is because Makoto the Merman is moving to America in one month, and his friends are worried for Haru, and Haru no longer acts as if they have no reason to be.

            He is not fine.

            “Haru.”

            Makoto’s voice is quiet but close, and when Haru opens his eyes and looks up from his knees it is to see that Makoto is less than a foot away from him, but he had known this before opening his eyes, before even hearing Makoto’s voice.

            He knew this from the way the water lapping at his ankles turned into tiny waves, faster waves, so that Haru could tell Makoto was coming closer to him.

            Makoto’s hands are still flat over the water’s surface that gently bops against his palms, but soon it will settle again, soon it will smooth over like glass.

            Haru looks carefully at the merman. Examines him as if he is memorizing him, and the thought is a terrible one, Haru does not want to have to memorize Makoto, he does not ever want to have to rely only on his memories to see Makoto.

            _I could come too._

            Makoto shakes his head, just marginally.

            It was a stupid thought. Makoto is not going to America because he wants to go to America. He is going to America to leave Haru, to keep Haru safe, as if somehow distance can do that when surely Makoto must know more than anyone that Haru is safest right beside him.

            Haru feels his throat tighten, his eyes burn, but it is not like he is drowning. It is not like there are knives in his windpipe, it is not like his chest is filling with salt water, it is not like his insides are being squeezed.

            It is nothing so dramatic as that. Haru is not drowning. He is just crying, and the feeling is so unfamiliar that Haru realizes he cannot remember when last he cried. He lifts his hands to his face, and they are already wet from the water of Makoto’s tank, so it is not as if his tears do any damage.

            He feels Makoto’s hands, one on his neck, the other around his back, pulling him, and Haru lets himself be folded into Makoto’s arms, large but gentle.

            “Haru,” Makoto whispers, and Haru has stopped crying now, has gotten ahold of himself because he does not like this unfamiliar feeling of crying, but he does not pull out from Makoto’s embrace.

            He lets himself be comforted. He does not pull away. He does not want to be left alone.

            No, being left alone is exactly what he does not want.

*

At the sound of his front door opening, Haru glances up from his laptop to see Sousuke closing the door behind him and walking over to sit beside Haru on the couch.

            Haru looks back at his laptop screen, not saying anything.

            There isn’t anything to say.

            Sousuke sleeps most nights at home now, but stays at Haru’s during the day. A few days before, he told Haru he was looking for a new apartment.

            Haru doesn’t know what Rin thinks about this, and isn’t going to ask Sousuke. This isn’t about Rin anyway. It’s about Sousuke, moving on.

            “Olympics?” Sousuke asks, as Rei’s cheers blast through the speakers on Haru’s laptop, mixed with the general cheers of the rest of the crowd in the stands.

            Haru shrugs. He doesn’t know why he felt the need to watch his Olympic footage – taped courtesy of Nagisa on his phone, which is better than the official footage because at least Haru can be distracted from the races and his own tremendous leads by Nagisa’s shaky camera work and Rei’s constant chastising from beside Nagisa, telling him to hold the camera straight and to zoom in on either him or Rin in the pool below.

            “Shit, Nanase. Forgot how fast you were, it’s kind of scary,” Soususke murmurs, looking over Haru’s shoulder, and Haru watches as he extends his lead over the other swimmers, including Rin, who is not beside him, but three lanes over.

            Rin is not a close second. Haru has full seconds over him. Every race is like this, and Nagisa and Rei’s cheers are deafening each time as though they are screaming into Nagisa’s phone on purpose.

            Haru lowers the volume.

            “They’re so loud,” he complains, and then he freezes, pausing the video with a tap of his laptop’s spacebar during a 300 meter.

            “What?” Sousuke asks. “They’re Rei and Nagisa, of course they’re loud.”

            “How did they get the _Whale of a Kiss_?” Haru demands, turning to look at Sousuke, who blinks back.

            “Ah, what?” Sousuke rubs the back of his neck, looking confused, and Haru feels his heart expanding, growing fast in his chest.

            Makoto is going to America in three and a half weeks. The protesters are still protesting. Haru received his M the M, FULL ACCESS card in an envelope with his name, probably from one of the protesters. He assumed he was being set up for a trap, but there have been no new pictures of him in the newspapers.

            Why haven’t there been?

            And more importantly, what if there had been?

            _Freedom is the right of man!_

            “How did the newspapers get the _Whale of a Kiss_? Someone took the photograph, then what?” Haru asks. He hears himself, how fast his words are, quick and urgent.

            He doesn’t sound like himself, but he hasn’t felt like himself in a very long time.

            “Haru, if you’re trying to find that person, sue them or whatever, I don’t think that would – ”

            “I want to get something to a newspaper,” Haru interrupts, and Sousuke squints at him, pivots on the couch to face him fully.

            “What are you talking about? Like another picture?”

            Haru is standing, placing his laptop – still frozen on a race where he is lengths ahead of every other swimmer – on the couch in his place, and going into the kitchen, searching for a newspaper.

            “What are you doing?” Sousuke asks, having followed him.

            “Did you throw out the newspaper?”

            “What newspaper? The one with the picture from weeks ago? Yeah, Haru, that’s gone. What’s going on, why are you – ”

            Haru stops opening draws in his kitchen and turns to stare at Sousuke across the counter. “Is there a number? Or an email?”

            “For the newspaper?” Sousuke asks, a crease between his eyebrows.

            “I need to send them something.”

            “What?”

            “A video.” Haru reaches into his pocket where his phone is, checks his battery to see if he’ll have to charge it before he visits Makoto that night.

            “What video?” Sousuke demands.

            “Do you know how to get it to a newspaper or not?” Haru snaps, and Sousuke rubs his hand over his forehead.

            “Nanase, how is a newspaper going to publish a video?” he asks, sounding exasperated, and Haru pauses, realizing Sousuke is right.

            “Oh.”

            “If you want to get a video out there, post it online. Make a Youtube account. I think Ai’s got one, he used to upload the high school team’s swimming vids,” Sousuke is saying slowly, watching Haru carefully, and Haru doesn’t care to explain to Sousuke what he is planning.

            “Does anyone watch those videos Ai uploads?”

            Sousuke shrugs. “Sure, he got a decent number of subscribers actually after Rin went to the Olympics.”

            Haru nods. “I need him to upload a video for me.”

            “What video, Nanase?”

            “I don’t have it yet,” Haru replies, and then he leaves the kitchen to put on his shoes and grab his sweatshirt, his M the M, FULL ACCESS card already in his pocket.

            He’ll have to wait at the aquarium, but Haru doesn’t mind. He can walk through the jellyfish exhibit until the coast is clear for him to see Makoto. It’s quiet in the jellyfish exhibit, an easy place to think, a good place to come up with a plan.

            “Nanase, wait – Haru!”

            Haru stops right before closing his front door behind him, finding Sousuke beside him, his hand on the edge of the door.

            “Look, just… You look like you’re about to do something stupid. Just make sure whatever it is is worth it, all right?” Sousuke asks, shaking his head, and Haru turns to him, looks at him hard.

            “He lives in a tank, Sousuke. He lives behind a glass.”

            Sousuke does not act as though this comment is strange or unexpected. He takes his hand from the door, steps back.

            “Yeah. I know,” Sousuke says, and when he nods, Haru nods back, closes the door between them and takes the stairs instead of the elevator to the ground floor, feeling as though his heart is racing too fast to stand still, he has to keep moving, he has to keep moving.

*

Haru is relieved to see that Makoto is not at the surface of his tank when he slips into the arena after the last of the day shift staff has gone home, and the night shift has finished their first round of security checks.

            The lights are off as they always are when Haru sneaks in, and instead of turning them on as he usually does, he tiptoes to the edge of the pool and strips to his swimsuit, worn under his jeans.

            He opens the camera app on his phone, switches it to video, and starts recording, placing the phone carefully against his pile of clothing so that it is propped up. He shifts the fabric of his t-shirt to hide most of his phone but for the camera lens, hoping his clothes simply look thrown in a haphazard pile instead of placed deliberately in a way he practiced while killing time in the jellyfish exhibit.

            He slips off his shoes and socks, places them beside his carefully crafted pile of clothes, and walks away from the tank to turn on the lights before returning and descending the steps leading into the surface of Makoto’s tank, stepping down until he is pushing himself away from the last step and swimming to the ledge of the tank, in front of where his phone is pointed.

            He glances behind him to make sure Makoto still has not surfaced before turning back to the camera.

            Haru clears his throat and speaks quietly but clearly, hoping his voice is not shaking the way his hands are – “My name is Nanase Haruka. I want the world to see this, to know the truth.”

            Haru can feel the churn of water below him and turns quickly to see the light of Makoto’s torso and the dark of his tail in a blurry shape that grows larger and larger under the water as he nears the surface, and then Makoto is breaking it, smiling his warm smile at Haru, who wants to turn off the video, who does not want to do this.

            Makoto’s entire life is lived behind a glass. His whole existence is without privacy but for these small moments Haru has with him, and now Haru will be publicizing them too, and it is not what he wants, it is not fair.

            But it is necessary.

            Makoto thinks he must keep Haru safe, must keep Haru happy, but Haru cannot see why it should not be the other way around.

            Makoto already saved Haru’s life. Haru cannot take from him any longer. He must give something in return.

            He must give Makoto his freedom.

            “Are you okay, Haru?” Makoto asks, concern laced in his voice, in the heavy-lidded gaze of his eyes, and if this is not enough to prove he is human, Haru does not know what it takes.    

            But he knows he needs more. He knows it won’t be enough.

            _No, I’m not okay._ Haru shakes his head, and he watches Makoto swim towards him, cannot move as Makoto stops in front of him, reaches out, but does not quite touch him, takes his hand back a second later to place over the surface of the tank in that way he does, as if it is glass.

            _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Makoto._

            “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine,” Makoto says, his eyes slipping between Haru’s, watching him carefully, and Haru looks away from him.

            _How can you say that? How can you lie to me?_

            “Americans eat a lot of French fries. I learned that today. Even though it is not France.”

            Haru does not have to look at Makoto to know that he is offering his small smile.

            He stares resolutely at the water between them, the inches of the tank’s surface that separate them. Underneath, the water is turned black by the dark of Makoto’s tail – huge, inhumane, even frightening, when everything else about him is safe.

            _I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

            “Haru – ”

            “I need you to tell me something,” Haru says quietly, to the tank’s surface, knowing he is interrupting Makoto, not wanting to, not wanting to ever cut off the sound of Makoto’s voice, so lovely and warm.

            He can feel Makoto’s concern as if has slipped from his expression into the tank, as if it has mixed with the water and presses against every inch of Haru’s skin.

            _I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

            “What is it, Haru?” Makoto asks, very quietly, because he cannot read Haru’s mind the way he usually can, and Haru knows this because the only words he can think of are how sorry he is, how terrible he feels for planning to publicize this one moment Makoto the Merman has of privacy, of not living behind a glass, of not being Makoto the Merman, of just being Makoto.

            _Are you more human than this man?_

            Haru does not know what makes someone human. He is human, he knows this – _Haru the Human_ – but he does not know what makes him so.

            He thinks it might be because of the way it _hurts_. How _hurt_ is not only the pain of this moment, but the pain of every single moment before, because of every smile Makoto has given him, because of every time Makoto has said his name, because of every time the water of Makoto’s tank has wet the cuffs of Haru’s jeans and he has not cared one bit.

            He thinks he might be human because of the way the future hurts too. The things he hasn’t known yet. The loneliness, the separation, the emptiness, the feelings he hasn’t experienced because Makoto is right here, _right here,_ and before Makoto there was nothing missing, but after Makoto, there will be too many things missing, too many things gone.

            There will not be someone who can understand him. Who can read his thoughts and take the pressure away from speaking, from having to know the right things to say, from being worried that the thoughts in his head aren’t the right ones, aren’t the ones that should be heard.

            Without Makoto, there will not be someone who can make his pulse jump right out from his skin, and he doesn’t know why this feeling is so important, he doesn’t know why suddenly it is so necessary, for his heart to beat this loudly, for his skin to be this warm.

            Without Makoto, there will only be the life Haru lived before, but it will be emptier now, as if Makoto will take other things with him when he leaves, and Haru wonders what these other things might be.

            His contentment?

            His happiness?

            His heart?

            “Haru?” Makoto asks, and Haru looks up at him now.

            “I have always loved to swim,” Haru says, and he doesn’t expect the words, but he accepts them because they are true, and he wants to give Makoto his truths.

            He wants to give Makoto all that he has, so that when Makoto is gone, Haru will be left with nothing at all, and he will not have to wonder at what is gone.

            He will know – It is everything.

            He has forgotten the camera on his phone he’s put to record. He has forgotten the rest of the world, but that is natural around Makoto, he is used to this around Makoto, he has never cared for the rest of the world, and he is glad when it disappears.

            “I was uninterested in everything else. Everyone else. I only wanted to swim,” he says quietly to Makoto, who looks pained, no longer smiling his small smile.

            Haru kicks his toes gently under the water. He is holding onto the ledge because he is tired, too tired to tread water. The water is warm even though mermen prefer chilled water, but the aquarium manager must have forgotten to fix that even though Haru reminded him that Makoto the Merman would be happier if his tank were chilled.

            “When I no longer enjoyed swimming, I was empty. There was a lack where everything I ever knew had been. There was no where I felt safe or at home, where I could belong. If you leave – ”

            Haru cannot finish. He cannot say it, how terrified he is of Makoto leaving. Of the knives in his throat coming back when everything else is gone.

            “I am a merman, and you are a human. Even if I do not go to America, that will not change,” Makoto says quietly.

            “Why does it have to change? I don’t care, do you care?” Haru demands, his anger swift.

            He knows love is hard, he knows it has to hurt _,_ but why should it? Why can’t it be easy?

            “No,” Makoto whispers. “I do not care, Haru.”

            Makoto’s hair has turned lighter, the clumps of it drying, drops of water still trickling from his hairline down the sides of his face.

            Haru feels his heartbeat at the base of his stomach. It is slow and thick and heavy like a stone. It weighs him down, and if he was not holding onto the ledge, he would sink to the bottom of Makoto’s tank. He is unsure that he would be able to swim back up.

            “You wanted me to tell you something, Haru. What do you want me to say? Tell me, and I will,” Makoto says, and Haru stares at him, remembers the camera on his phone, recording, remembers that everything in this pool tonight will be all over the news tomorrow, if the public acts as he has guessed, and he knows it will.

            Makoto the Merman is not only incredible to Haru the Human. He is extraordinary to everyone.

            “I need you to tell me a secret,” Haru whispers, but he doesn’t want Makoto to listen to his words.

            He wants Makoto to listen to what he is thinking. And that is for him not to speak, not to say anything that Haru’s phone will pick up, not to say anything that the rest of the world will hear because even though the rest of the world loves Makoto the Merman, this moment does not belong to them.

            It belongs to Haru, and it belongs to Makoto, and it belongs to this tank around them, this empty arena where Haru watched Makoto laugh at the cinnamon sugar coating his fingertips, falling into the tank.

            “What secret?” Makoto asks, as if there is more than one, as if there is more than one that matters.

            Haru licks his lips. Exhales, and his breath shudders because his heart beats so hard it shakes his lungs beside it.

            _Let’s swim, Makoto. Let’s forget all of the secrets, let’s forget all of the words, let’s just swim together again._

            “I don’t know,” Haru breathes. His eyes burn as if they are filled with ocean water. He does not blink, does not want one drop to fall, does not want to see Makoto the way the rest of the world will see Makoto in the video Haru will offer them.

            “Okay,” Makoto says, and Haru is so startled by this agreement to such a strange request that he blinks the blurriness away to see Makoto watching him carefully, something mixed with his concern that Haru cannot name. “Okay, Haru, I will tell you a secret.”

            The tank is silent for a moment but for their breaths and a heartbeat, and Haru is unsure whether the heartbeat is his own or Makoto’s, loud enough to slip through the small space between them and settle, soft as cotton, in Haru’s ears.

            Makoto opens his lips again, and Haru closes his eyes so that he does not have to watch the words come out. Their cotton heartbeats are so loud that maybe Haru won’t hear his words either, and maybe that will mean they do not exist.

*


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you are american and able to, GO VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE! that ends today's public service announcement haha, enjoy the chapter homeslices! :D

Haru does not watch the video.

            He emails it to Ai, asking that Ai upload it to his Youtube channel, and when he receives a phone call from Ai an hour later, Haru does not pick up.

            When his phone stops ringing, he texts Ai – _will you upload it?_

            – receives in return – _are you sure about this, haru?_

            – replies without hesitance – _yes_

– then finally receives a confirmation from Ai, agreeing.

            Haru knows the only thing to do is wait, and he ends up going to the pool, swimming slow laps to find himself joined by, of all people, Nagisa, whom Haru hasn’t seen at the pool in years.

            Haru has been swimming breaststroke, which he’d taken to teaching Makoto, and sees Nagisa across the pool as he comes up for air, his surprise interrupting his stroke.

            “Hey, Haru!” Nagisa shouts, waving at him as Haru stops swimming to tread water, allowing Nagisa to swim to him.

            “Hi,” Haru replies, once Nagisa has stopped a few feet from him.

            “Didn’t think I’d see you here. You’re swimming my stroke! That’s crazy, Haru, I never see you swim anything but free.”

            Haru just shrugs, and Nagisa hums thoughtfully.

            “Hm, I suppose you have changed a lot, though, I shouldn’t be so surprised that your swimming habits have changed as well,” Nagisa muses, and Haru does not ask for explanation, though he is unsure how he has changed even though he can feel it too.

            He does not know if these changes are a good thing or something terrible, something that will ruin him.

            “Well, what’s wrong with you?” Nagisa demands, and Haru does not know what Nagisa is talking about, and so he does not reply.

            Nagisa sighs as though greatly disappointed.

            “Aren’t you going to ask about what’s going on with Rei and I?” he asks.

            Haru examines his friend. Nagisa seems more like his usual self, though not completely.

            Nagisa sighs again, as though he has the world on his shoulders. “I spoke to him the other day. I told him I loved him.”

            Haru waits for the rest, but Nagisa doesn’t say anything more, just looks at Haru in a serious way as if he has naturally concluded the conversation.

            “And?” Haru asks, when Nagisa has said nothing for a full minute, but Nagisa’s response is to duck under water.

            Haru can see Nagisa’s body underwater, lithe and fast as he swims lower and lower until Haru assumes he’s skimming the bottom of the pool. Nagisa swims along the bottom for longer than Haru anticipated before resurfacing halfway across the pool, breathing hard and shouting through his breaths.

            “You know, in my head, when I let myself daydream, I imagined we’d get married,” Nagisa shouts, not seeming to notice that his words echo around the walls of the pool. “And you and Rin and Ai and Sousuke and Momo would all be a part of the ceremony. And we’d have a huge party after that. And go on a romantic honeymoon somewhere amazing, like an African rainforest. But the best part of the daydream was always when we’d come home from the honeymoon, and it’d be like the same as it always was, but we’d live together and call each other hubby and darling and honeycheeks, and we’d snuggle on the sofa and Rei would feed me popcorn, and I’d pretend to fall asleep in his lap just so he’d have to carry me to the bed where we’d sleep all curled tight and together even though it would make us both sweat.”

            Haru does not like that Nagisa is shouting. He doesn’t know why Nagisa is shouting when Nagisa sounds out of breath as it is. He swims over to Nagisa, who just swims away from him in turn until he is against the edge of the pool, and Haru is the one in the middle, treading water and wondering what he can possibly say.

            But Haru doesn’t have to say anything because Nagisa keeps going, though this time he is not shouting, and his voice is oddly quiet in contrast.

            “I always knew it was a daydream, Haru. I never really thought it’d happen. Sometimes it’s just fun to think about crazy things,” Nagisa says, and Haru wants to ask Nagisa what Rei said to him when Nagisa confessed.

            Haru wants to tell Nagisa how much Rei loves him. Haru wants Nagisa to know that what he wants doesn’t just have to be a daydream.

            “I think I must have tricked myself into thinking it wasn’t a daydream, somehow. I think I must have made a mistake and thought that would actually be the future. Isn’t it frustrating, that you can trick yourself? Isn’t that just terrible, that you can lie to yourself and then actually believe it?” Nagisa asks, and then his hand is over his face, and he doesn’t say anything.

            Haru swims the distance separating them, holds the ledge of the pool a foot from where Nagisa’s arm digs into it.

            “Nagisa. Rei came over to my apartment the other day. He told me he loves you, he’s crazy about you,” Haru insists.

            He knows that isn’t always enough. To be in love isn’t always good enough, doesn’t always fix everything, doesn’t always fix anything. But for Rei and Nagisa, why shouldn’t it be?

            It has to be enough for someone.

            Nagisa nods, still not moving his hand from over his face. His fingers rustle his wet bangs, plastered to his forehead.

            “I know,” he says, his voice muffled by his palm. “He told me.”

            Haru waits, and after half a minute, Nagisa moves his hand from his face, but ducks so that he looks down at the pool.

            Haru can see the way the surface’s reflection of sky blue scribbles tangle into Nagisa’s blond hair, which curls up in random clumps.

            “Rei said he thought it would be better if we pretended we didn’t. Love each other, that is. If we just stayed friends. If we went back to what it was. That way, we wouldn’t risk losing each other at all,” Nagisa says, his voice strange, a weird sort of hollow.

            “Nagisa…”

            Nagisa laughs in a breathy, empty way. “He’s right, of course. Rei is always right. The rational one. A relationship is too much of a risk. I knew that from the start. There is nothing more important to me than Rei’s friendship. This is a relief, really,” Nagisa says, and then he looks up, and his eyes are glassy, but he is not crying.

            “What if it’s worth the risk, Nagisa?” Haru asks, and his shoulders feel cold, he wants to submerge completely under the surface of the water.

            Nagisa stares at Haru like he’s said something absurd. “Nothing is worth the risk of losing Rei. I just got caught up in my daydream, that’s all. Silly of me. Silly Nagisa. Nothing new there, I never was good with common sense, you knew that, everyone knows that.”

            “That’s not – ” Haru stops speaking because Nagisa submerges himself under water again, just the way Haru wants to do himself, but he doesn’t copy his friend.

            He watches as Nagisa swims once more to the bottom of the pool, moves along across the floor of it as if he might never surface again, and until he does, Haru holds his breath with worry that he will not.

*

Haru is walking home from the pool when his phone rings, and he digs it from his pocket to see that Rin is calling him.

            He debates ignoring him, knowing what it will be about, but ends up answering.

            “Where the hell are you?” Rin demands, the second Haru puts his phone to his ear.

            “Outside,” Haru says, looking up and finding the sky a perfect blue, and it looks more to Haru like a painting than an actual sky.

            “Outside where? I’m in your apartment, and you’re not here.”

            “Because I’m outside.”

            “Nanase, don’t test me!”

            “I’m walking home from the pool. I’m near your place.”

            “Who is it?” Nagisa asks, beside Haru.

            Haru offered to make Nagisa mackerel after a few more laps in the pool, and Nagisa agreed.

            “Rin,” Haru replies, while Rin speaks over him into his ear.

            “Don’t come home, go to my place, I think Ai’s there, he’ll let you in,” Rin says quickly.

            Haru doesn’t question him. He figured there’d be people outside his building. It was only a matter of time before they found out his address anyway, and with the video Ai uploaded, Haru knew the wave of attention he received would grow.

            “Sure,” Haru agrees.

            “What’s going on?” Nagisa asks.

            “We’re going to Rin’s,” Haru replies.

            “Haru, there’s protestors and news crews swarming your building. I don’t know how they found out your address, but it’s insane. I’m gonna grab some stuff for you, you’ll have to stay at my place for a while, or Nagisa’s or Rei’s.”

            “Did Ai tell you how many viewers it got?” Haru asks.

            “What got?” Nagisa demands, as they turn down Rin’s street.

            “That video is viral, Haru. Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this? We could have prepared, people are going nuts, there’s talk of news stations picking it up and broadcasting it!”

            “I took a video and asked Ai to put it online,” Haru explains to Nagisa, mostly because Nagisa is pulling at his sleeve, and Haru wants him to stop before he drops his phone.

            “I know you did!” Rin snaps. “That was a stupid move, Haru, you’ll never be left alone!”

            _If I said the truth about my relations with Nanase Haruka on international television, they would not leave you alone._

            “We’re at your place, I’m hanging up,” Haru says.

            “What video?” Nagisa is asking, though he’s let go of Haru’s sleeve.

            “Seriously, Nanase, I don’t think you understand how huge – ”

            Haru hangs up and knocks on Rin’s door. He is aware that Nagisa is staring at him, and turns.

            “What video, Haru?” Nagisa asks again.

            “Makoto is not an _it_. He’s not an animal. He shouldn’t be in a tank. He needs to be free,” Haru explains, his voice harder than he intended, and Nagisa doesn’t say anything, maybe because the door is opening, and it is Sousuke, looking relieved rather than surprised to find Haru and Nagisa on his doorstep.

            “Thank god you’re okay, come in, quick,” he says, stepping aside, and Haru walks in, followed by Nagisa.

            “What’s going on?” Nagisa demands.

            “Who is that?” It’s Ai’s voice, calling from inside the house amongst other voices, and as Haru walks into the living room, he sees that the other voices are coming from the television.  

            They belong to newscasters, and then they belong to himself.

            _“ ‘My name is Nanase Haruka. I want the world to see this, to know the truth.’ ”_

            “That’s you,” Nagisa is saying, beside Haru.

            “I took it offline when it got over a million hits, but I guess the news stations got it beforehand,” Ai insists, getting off the couch where he was sitting to walk over to Haru. “I’m so sorry, Haru.”

            “This is what I wanted,” Haru replies, watching Makoto break the surface of the tank just as he had watched the night before, first his head and then his torso, but his tail stays hidden underneath the line of water.

            Makoto’s smile is immediate on seeing Haru, and then his expression falls into concern, just as Haru remembered it.

            _“ ‘Are you okay, Haru?’ ”_ Makoto asks from within the television, and Haru nods even though this is just a video of Makoto, Makoto is not actually in front of Haru, looking at Haru like the rest of the world does not exist, does not matter.

            _Yes, Makoto. I am okay now. Everything will be okay now._

            The video cuts back to the news casters, who are leaning forward in their seats and speaking earnestly, and then there is the video again, then there is Haru again, then there is Makoto again.

            _“ ‘Okay. Okay, Haru, I will tell you a secret,’ ”_ Makoto is saying, and Haru watches as his eyes close in the video.

            He knows the words that will come next. They ring in his head still, at this very moment, and yet he still finds himself taking a step into the living room, closer to the television, watching Makoto very closely because the first time he did not watch, he did not know what Makoto looked like when he offered Haru this truth hours before.

            _“ ‘I am terrified,’ ”_ Makoto whispers, on the television, in the arena, inside Haru’s head – he’s not sure where the words are coming from, it doesn’t matter – they come from Makoto the Merman, that is what matters.

            Haru can see this secret all over Makoto’s face now, looking at Makoto on the same screen on which the rest of world might be looking at him. There is no warm smile on Makoto’s lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes. There is no concern in the lines of Makoto’s face, creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

            His eyes are wide and his lips parted and his chest moves quickly with his breaths, and Haru can see this all in the video, what he couldn’t see when he had been right in front of Makoto because he’d closed his eyes.

            He had only been able to hear Makoto, to feel the way the water shook as though their pulses had slipped from their bodies to skate across the surface on which Makoto often rested his large palms, as if it were not liquid, but glass.

            _“ ‘I think I might die in a tank,’ ”_ Makoto is saying, to the entire world because Haru asked Ai to post this video on his Youtube channel, and it was picked up by the news, and now it is broadcasted internationally, now it is in everyone’s living room, on everyone’s screen.

            Haru swallows. Wants to close his eyes again, but he closed his eyes the first time, he has to watch now, the way Makoto’s fear turns into something else, creases around his eyes and a small shake of his head.

            The way his hair shifts, clumps wet from the tank but drying, drops dripping off and onto the skin of his face, back into the water around him.

            The way one half of his body is hidden by the water of the tank, distorted into colors and shapes and nothing else, like maybe it doesn’t exist, like maybe it doesn’t matter.

            The way Makoto’s hands don’t quite lie flat against the surface of the water because his fingers are curling, breaking the surface, shattering this silly illusion that water might be glass if it’s only looked at a certain way.

            The way Makoto opens his lips, continues speaking, continues to give this secret to Haru who didn’t even want it, who only asked because he knew he had to show the rest of the world that Makoto was human, he knew he had to free Makoto the Merman, and this was the only way he knew how.

            _“ ‘But that’s not what scares me, Haru. What scares me, what terrifies me, is that maybe – Maybe I won’t even mind one bit, because it was only in this tank that I got to know you, it was only in this tank that I got to swim with you. I’m terrified that it was worth it. That even if I’m ever returned to the ocean, I will let myself be caught again and again by every single fisherman so that I might be able to see you again, to swim with you one more time.’ ”_

            Haru looks away from Makoto on the television screen. Looks at himself on the screen in front of Makoto, how his own hands are curled, one around the ledge of the tank, nails digging into the side. His knuckles look white.

            Haru watches his eyes open on the television screen. Watches his lips open next. Knows the words that he will say to Makoto, knows to brace himself for them, but they still hurt anyway, they still shake his insides, rearrange the structure of his skeleton.

            _“ ‘I don’t want you to be free,’ ”_ Haru admits, on the television screen, and his voice is hard, his words are stiff. _“ ‘But I need you to be. And if they ever let you leave, more than anything, I do not want you to ever come back.’ ”_

            Haru closes his eyes. He saw Makoto’s expression in the tank, does not need to see it again on the television screen.

            He only opens his eyes a few seconds later, when he hears the voices of the news casters, and he watches them speak without hearing their words, then watches protestors fill up the screen, watches as one protestor gives an interview.

            Haru doesn’t need to listen to the words being said. He knows what will happen.

            It is clear now, that Makoto is more human than animal. It is clear now, that Makoto is a _he_ rather than an _it._ It is clear now, that it is inhumane to keep Makoto in a tank.

            It is clear now, that Makoto cannot be sold to America, nor can he stay in an aquarium in Japan. It is clear now, that the only thing to do, the right thing to do, is to free Makoto the Merman, no matter what that will do to Haruka the Human, no matter what that will do to his heart.

*

For the next few days, Makoto the Merman is once again the biggest story in international news.

            Haru does not visit him. He tries, but security has multiplied in number and power. Haru is hardly able to get into the parking lot of the aquarium before he is turned away by security.

            At first, the aquarium refuses to allow interviews. The official statement is that Makoto the Merman is overwhelmed by the media attention, and they are keeping cameras away from him to protect him.

            This provokes a new wave of activist movement from those who demand to know how even Makoto’s right of free speech is being taken from him, and then a press release is scheduled, which finds Haru and the rest of his friends once again piled in front of the television three days after Haru leaked the video he took of himself and Makoto without Makoto knowing.

            Unlike Makoto’s first live press release, this one is not open to the public. Only a handful of international news crews are allowed in the arena. Otherwise, the scene is the same – Makoto behind a podium beside the steps where Haru had sat while Makoto swam in front of him, touched his lips, kissed him.

            The camera zooms in on Makoto’s face, and the merman is not looking up, but down at the podium, on which his large hands are folded.

            Haru is leaning against the doorway of the living room, his arms crossed over his chest. Like last time, he declined the invitation to squeeze onto the couch with his friends.

            Rin stands up from the couch at the same moment that Makoto looks up at the camera. Makoto stares straight into the lens, expressionless the way he was the first time he appeared on international television.

            Haru crosses his arms more tightly, and then Rin is beside him.

            Rin leans on the other side of the doorway, does not say anything to Haru, and Haru is grateful for this.

            “Are you ready to take questions, Makoto?”

            It is the same translator as the first broadcast. Makoto nods to the camera.

            “Yes.” His voice is tremendously small, and Haru takes a deep breath, holds in it his chest.

            The first question is asked in a sharp, guttural language. Haru tries to think back to the Olympics, to untangle the languages he heard there, but there were many.

            German, he thinks. Maybe Russian.

            The translator repeats the question in Japanese, and Haru is as surprised by it as Makoto looks.

             “How are you today, Makoto?”

            Makoto blinks at the translator, then looks into the crowd, probably at the woman who asked the question.

            “I am – I am okay, thank you for asking. How are you today?” Makoto asks, and there is faint laughter from the arena.

            Haru digs his fingers into the skin of his arms.

            There is a response from the same voice in the same rough language, and the translator is quick to convert it.

            “Quite well, thank you, Makoto.”

            Makoto nods, his smile small and hesitant. He is no longer expressionless, clearly caught off guard by the question, and he looks tired now. Wary and gentle.

            _Human_.          

            The next question is in what Haru believes is French, and again must be translated.

            “Did you know that a video was being taken of you and Nanase Haruka three nights ago?”

            Makoto swallows. He looks away from the camera, down at his hands on the podium.

            A drop of water falls from his hair. His shoulders are wide. His lips are open before he speaks, and when he does speak, it is to his hands.

            “I did not,” he says quietly, almost a whisper.

            “Makoto, you will have to speak up,” the translator says, gently.

            Makoto clears his throat, looks up at the camera, and he looks, more than anything, confused.

            Haru presses the side of his shoulder harder against the doorframe. He wants it to hurt.

            “No, I did not know a video was being taken.”

            “Have you seen the video?”

            The next question is in Japanese, and Makoto glances at whomever asked it.

            “Not the entire thing. I do not need to see it. It is of my life, my memory.”

            The pinch of Haru’s fingernails is sharp against the skin of his arms. He does not loosen his grip. He does not know how to.

            Another question that is called out is long and wordy, and Haru knows it is in Chinese, waits for the translator, who pauses before speaking.

            “Makoto. You said previously that your kiss with Nanase Haruka meant nothing to you. You also said previously that you are incapable of feeling love and other complex emotions the way humans can. The video of you interacting with Nanase Haruka calls your previous statements into doubt. Do you still stand by those previous statements? Were you lying? What is the truth, Makoto? What can you feel?”

            Makoto takes a deep breath. He looks overwhelmed, small in the big arena when Haru knows that in truth, he is incredible and overwhelming.

            “I – ” Makoto starts, and when he looks into the camera, Haru is certain that Makoto knows he is watching, is certain that when Makoto speaks, he is speaking directly to Haru. “I feel everything,” Makoto whispers, and the translator does not tell him to speak up.

            Haru clenches his jaw. He does not know what _everything_ means.

            Does it mean heartbreak? Does it mean a squeezing of his chest? Does it mean a shrinking of his bones?

            After Haru told Makoto that he wanted Makoto to be free, that he did not want Makoto to ever be caught again, he tried to explain the words that tangled in his head on seeing Makoto the Merman’s expression.

            On seeing Makoto the Merman’s opened lips, though no sound came out.

            On seeing Makoto the Merman’s heavy-lidded eyes looking only heavier, pulled down further.

            On seeing Makoto the Merman’s quick blinks until he looked away from Haru the Human, down at the surface of the tank on which his hands were curled, loosely.

            On the television, several questions are shouted at Makoto at once, and the translator raises his own voice, calls for order.

            Haru wants to look away from the television. He wants to be next to Makoto. He wants to reach out, to take Makoto’s big hands in his, to pull Makoto down underneath the surface of the water and to swim lower and lower with him, away from everyone, away from these questions prying into a life that is not theirs to witness.

            When the arena has calmed, the translator calls on someone who asks a question in English, which is quickly translated.

            “You were supposed to move to America in a few weeks. Does this mean you actually don’t want to go?”

            Makoto’s eyes move quickly, side to side at the camera, as if he is searching the lens for words.

            He raises a hand, cups the back of his neck, drops his hand again. “I do not want to go to America,” he finally says.

            Haru exhales. Feels as though his knees might give out, and the feeling surprises him. He is glad for the doorway beside him, holding him up.

            Makoto continues, “I would like to go home. I have – I have a family. I would like to return to my family.”

            Haru feels as though he is swelling. He is so proud of Makoto.

            “Your family?”

            Makoto is not looking at the camera anymore, but at whomever asked the question. “Yes,” he nods. His smile is warm and hesitant but still enough to crinkle his eyes. “My little siblings, Ren and Ran. They are my best friends. I would like to see them again, to let them know that I am okay. My mother and father too. I do not want them to worry.”

            The arena is extremely quiet now, when Makoto stops speaking. There is no noise at all for what must be a full minute, and then there is the translator pointing to someone in the crowd, who asks a question in a musical language Haru cannot name, but he can recognize his name in it, and then the translator is speaking.

            “What about Nanase Haruka?”

            Haru takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. Hates these people for asking Makoto everything, as if the video is not enough, as if not even Makoto’s thoughts have a right to be private.

            Makoto looks at the translator, then speaks very slowly. “I’m sorry. I do not understand the question.”

            The translator hesitates before supplying the clarification of the question offered in that musical language.

            “From the video,” the translator says, his words clear in the otherwise silent arena, “you made it clear that you would come back for Nanase Haruka, even if you were freed. How can you tell Nanase Haruka that would let yourself be caught again and again, and then tell us that you want to go home? What is it you really want, Makoto?”

            Makoto blinks at the translator, then looks at the camera again. He opens his lips and says nothing for several seconds, then starts, “I want…” but does not say anything else, and the silence of his unfinished question is interrupted by a question that is called out.

            “Did it hurt you, to hear Nanase Haruka say he would not want you to come back if you were let go? After you opened yourself to him, after you stated you would sacrifice your home and family for him, he rejected you. How did that make you feel, Makoto?”

            Haru blinks at the television screen, wondering if the words were actually voiced or just echoed around in Haru’s own head, but Makoto is looking away from the camera in the direction of the voice with wide eyes, and that makes Haru think it must not have just been in his head.

            Haru cannot imagine how someone could ask a question like that. How someone could be so cruel.

            “What is wrong with that asshole, do these people not know how to censor themselves? Jeez,” Rin mutters angrily, from beside Haru.

            The arena erupts in voices again, and the translator again calls for order. Haru can only look at Makoto, who is looking down at the podium now, at his hands, his expression hidden. He only looks up once the arena is again quiet, and the translator asks him very gently if he is able to answer the question.

            Makoto nods, swallows in a way Haru watches by the movement of his throat. He says nothing for a few moments, and when he does, he speaks very slowly, as though he is thinking carefully about each word before letting it leave his lips that Haru knows are soft, Haru knows are warm, Haru has felt over his own lips.

“I hope I am not being rude, but I do not wish to answer that question on television. I do not think it is your business, my relationship with Haru. I am a merman, and Haru is a human, and we both deserve privacy. Please leave Haru alone. I do not mind if you ask me questions, but I would prefer if you did not ask me about Haru.”

            “Isn’t Nanase Haruka the one who took the video without you even knowing and leaked it to the public? He spread your private life, why should you care about spreading his?” someone calls from the arena, and Haru feels his stomach clench, but Makoto looks swiftly angry, and there is a splash behind him, from what Haru can guess is his tail hitting the water.

            “I will not answer another question if you continue to ask about Haru. Do you understand?” Makoto demands, and Haru has never seen him angry, is fascinated by how terrifying he looks.

            Makoto’s hands are in fists on the podium, and Haru can see each inhale enter his lungs as his chest rises, each exhale leave his lips as his chest falls.

            There is a mumbled apology from the news castor, and then the translator announces that there is time for only two more questions.

            Makoto unravels his hands from fists, reaches up to sweep his hair from his eyes. The strands are lighter, drying.

            His gaze into the camera is hard now.

            The translator repeats a question that has been asked in what Haru guesses is Italian, though it may be Spanish. Haru has never been good at distinguishing the two.

            “There is talk of the aquarium being sued. Getting in trouble,” the translator amends, on the crease of confusion that falls between Makoto’s eyes. “Do you believe they deserve to be punished for imprisoning you?”

            “Imprisoning…” Makoto muses, tilting his head as he repeats the word. “I think that is, what is the word, drama – dramatic? I do not want to be in a tank, but I do not want the aquarium to be punished. They have been very kind to me. I am not angry. I am not sad. I think they have made a mistake, and I understand that. I too have made mistakes. It is, there’s a phrase – It is only human, right?” Makoto asks, smiling a little, and the translator laughs, nods.

            “Yes, that is the phrase,” the translator agrees. “One last question then.”

            “There is no question, in the light of the leaked video and this interview today, that you will be released from the aquarium. Clearly, you are much more human than we ever guessed. Can we expect you to ever come up to the surface of the ocean again, if only to say hello? Are you interested in a new sort of exhibit, an ‘on the surface’ sort, where you can come and go as you please?”

            Makoto reaches up, rubs his shoulder once, drops his hand back to the podium. Haru watches him take a breath before speaking, his gaze level on the camera.

            “I do not think it is the best idea to have – as humans say – one foot in the ocean, one on land. Although, of course, I do not have feet,” Makoto says, laughing lightly, and Haru feels as though the sound is slipping through him, settling just below his skin in a quivering sheen.

            The woman who asked the question laughs too. “Of course,” she agrees.

            Makoto speaks quietly as he continues, his voice lowering to a near whisper, but still clear over the television feed. “I think it is clear that to leave will be hard for me. Once I am freed, I will not come back. I apologize.”

            In the silence that follows, the translator asks Makoto if he has any last remarks, and when Makoto shakes his head, the video feed is shut off. The television shows two news castors in a news room, who shuffle their papers and announce that there will be a brief commercial break before Makoto the Merman and his future – in or out of the aquarium – are discussed.

            A commercial appears for orange juice, and Haru turns away from it, leaving the living room to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

            Haru agrees with the news castor who asked the last question. Makoto will be freed. Is it not a question.

            At the very least, there is this. He does not know if it is a happy ending, but happy endings are for books and movies anyway, and this is, if anything, the best ending.

            _There are plenty of fish in the sea. Right, Haru?_

_Isn’t it terrible, that you can lie to yourself and then actually believe it?_

_What about Nanase Haruka?_

“Haru.”

            This voice is not in Haru’s head, and Haru blinks, focuses, realizes the glass he is filling at the sink has overflowed. Water trickles over his fingers, along the back of his hand, in rivulets down to his wrist.

            Rin is beside him and reaches out, closes the faucet.

            “You saved his life. You realize that, right? He would have been in that tank forever, if not that one, then the one in America, or somewhere else, even. Now he gets to go home. To see his family again. You did that,” Rin says, and Haru thinks about hands pulling him out of crashing waves, of knives stabbing his throat until they were not, until they were gone and cool air replaced them, and a voice –

            _Be safe, Haru._

            “He saved mine first,” Haru says quietly, and he tips his glass so that water no longer fills it to the top, and it will not spill when he moves it.

            “What?” Rin asks.

            Haru doesn’t reply. He takes a sip of water, and it slips down his throat easily – not like knives, not like daggers.

            He does not feel as though he is drowning.

            Somehow, there is no relief in this.

*


	13. Chapter 13

Two days after the international televised press release with Makoto the Merman, Rin walks into the kitchen where Haru is cooking mackerel and slaps a newspaper next to the stove.

            “Careful, you nearly got it in the flame,” Haru replies, lifting the pan to flip the mackerel over.

            “Are you going to read the damn thing or not?” Rin demands, and Haru doesn’t know how his friend can be so irritated this early in the morning.

            He glances at the newspaper, reads the headline.

            _Makoto is Homebound!_

            Even the newspaper seems excited. Haru picks up the paper, forgets his mackerel on the stove as he reads quickly, sees that Makoto has asked for one last week in the aquarium to say goodbye to the lovely people of Japan who have visited him and supported him while he was at the aquarium, and the aquarium has agreed.

            Haru isn’t surprised. Makoto would delay his own freedom just to wave to a couple kids with _I heart Makoto the Merman_ t-shirts.

            “He’s here another week,” Rin says.

            Haru places down the newspaper, not caring about the rest of the article, filled with interviews of the aquarium manager, some of the staff, a few protesters.

            “You’ll go see him, right?” Rin is asking, while Haru turns off the stove and reaches into a cupboard for a plate.

            “I’m banned.”

            Rin scoffs. “They’re not going to keep banning you now. They’ll let you in, Haru.”

            Haru takes his plate to sit at the counter, moves aside the bowl of cereal Nagisa was eating and left on the table in order to take a call from one of his sisters.

            Since Haru started staying at Rin’s place, so has Nagisa, and no one questioned it. Haru can guess Nagisa doesn’t want to be alone right now. Haru understands that.

            “You don’t want to see him? I know you do,” Rin says, sitting beside Haru, who takes a bite of mackerel and chews slowly even though it is hot, burns both his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

            _Of course I want to see him_. _I want to see him. I want to see him._

            “So annoying, I’m a grown man, and my sisters still think they can make fun of me whenever they want!” Nagisa’s voice precedes his body returning to the kitchen, and he flops himself on the stool beside Haru. “What are you guys talking about?”

            “Makoto is being released into the ocean in a week,” Rin says, and Nagisa bounces right back off his chair.

            “For real?” he demands.

            “Newspaper’s right there,” Rin says, pointing. “Come on, Nanase, talk to me. For once in your life, make me feel useful as a friend.”

            Haru glances at Rin while Nagisa starts reading aloud from the newspaper article.

            “I want to see him,” Haru says, and Rin lifts his hands.

            “Then what’s the issue?”

            “He knows what I’m thinking,” Haru replies, taking another bite of mackerel and looking at Nagisa, who is reading the newspaper article out loud with flourish.

            “What does that mean? No one knows what you’re thinking, trust me on that, Nanase,” Rin mutters.

            “Makoto does,” Haru replies, still watching Nagisa.

            “Okay, so?”

            _I don’t want him to read my mind. I don’t want him to know how I feel. I don’t want him to know that I am heartbroken. I don’t want him to know that I miss him already, and he isn’t even gone yet, and it hurts so much, it hurts._

“This is a good thing. He’s free, this is a good thing,” Haru says, standing up without finishing his mackerel and taking his plate and Nagisa’s bowl to the sink.

            Nagisa stops reading to look at him. “You didn’t finish your mackerel,” he points out.

            “Do you want the rest of your cereal?” Haru asks, holding the bowl of soggy Captain Crunch Berries to Nagisa, who places down the newspaper, but does not take the bowl.

            Nagisa opens his mouth as if to speak, but Rin interrupts him. “Haru…You know, that stuff you said in the video, how you wouldn’t want him to come back – You have to know Makoto understands it’s because you just want him to be free. I mean, I’m sure he knows what you feel about him, you’re the one who just said he knows what you’re thinking,” Rin says, sounding wary, but Haru ignores him, mostly because Nagisa is now addressing him.

            “It’s okay to be sad, Haru. Even though you did the most amazing thing for Makoto, even though he gets to see his family now and go back home, he’s sad too. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be sad sometimes, you don’t always have to be happy,” Nagisa says, and Haru stares at him, then turns to the sink and places the bowl of soggy cereal and his own plate of half-eaten mackerel in it.

_I’m not just happy Nagisa, I’m needy Nagisa, I need him._

            Haru turns on the faucet, but doesn’t wash anything, just puts his hands under the warm water, feels it running over his skin, closes his eyes.

            _It doesn’t feel okay._

            He feels arms around his waist, pulling him into a hug, and opens his eyes to see Nagisa beside him, ducking his head into Haru’s shoulder.

            “You’re the bravest person I know, Haru. I’m so proud of you.”

            Haru stares at his friend, wondering when Nagisa grew into an adult, wondering when any of them did.    

            Didn’t they used to be boys? Foolish and careless and happy?

            Haru tries to remember, but it all seems like a dream more than a memory.

*

Haru has been sleeping on Rin’s bedroom floor, while Nagisa has been sleeping in Momo’s room.

            But Haru cannot sleep, and so he gets up from the sleeping bag that used to be Ai’s that Rin found for him from a closet, and tiptoes to the door, slipping out of it and closing it gently behind him to hear voices.

            He walks slowly down the hall, recognizing one of the voices as Nagisa’s, and for a moment, Haru wonders if Nagisa talks in his sleep before he hears another voice interrupting him.

            “Nagisa, we talked about this – ” It is Rei, and he sounds strained.

            Haru stops, not meaning to eavesdrop, and wonders if he should turn back to lie sleeplessly on Ai’s sleeping bag.

            “You wouldn’t have come over in the middle of the night if you didn’t want this too!” Nagisa insists.

            When Rei speaks, it is a hiss. He is angry, and this surprises Haru, has him forgetting his plans to give Rei and Nagisa privacy.

            “Of course I want this! You know that! Being in love does not mean we can be reckless, Nagisa, does not mean we should throw out everything, our friendship – ”

            “I don’t want to throw it out! I want to be with you, Rei, I want us to be together, isn’t it so stupid that we can’t be together even though we both love each other? Don’t you think that’s stupid, Rei?”

            “No, on the contrary, I think it is wisest if we just continue to ignore these added feelings. To love is a risk, Nagisa. There simply is no logic in taking a risk we do not have to take.”

            “What if we do? What if I do? What if I have to take the risk because if I don’t, if I don’t – I hate pretending not to love you, Rei. I hate it, it makes me feel awful inside, doesn’t it make you feel so awful?”

            “I am sorry you feel that way.” Rei replies stiffly. “I am sure the feeling will pass.”

            Haru closes his eyes. He has no right to hear this conversation, and turns when he hears his name, making him freeze again.

            “What about Haru?”

            It is Nagisa who shouts it, and his shout is followed by silence for several seconds before Rei speaks.

            “Haru?”

            “Do you think Makoto is his soulmate?” Nagisa asks, and Haru turns around. He is not far enough down the hall and cannot see Nagisa and Rei, but almost wants to.

            He is not sure if he has heard Nagisa correctly.

            “What – Nagisa – How is that relevant – ”

            “Do you?” Nagisa demands, and Haru closes his eyes, can imagine so clearly that Rei reaches up, adjusts his glasses in the pause of silence.

            “Soulmate is an interesting concept that I have never been inclined to believe in. But in the case of Haru… Yes. Yes, I think so.”

            “So do I. But the problem is that Haru’s soulmate is a merman. He’s going to go live in the ocean, Rei, and I bet Haru wishes he could, but he can’t live with him. They can’t be together. Haru will never get to be with his soulmate, and do you know much that must hurt him? To know that? To know that he’s either got to move on and find someone else he doesn’t love nearly as much, or he’ll just have to be alone?”

            “I agree that Haru’s situation is not ideal, but I still fail to see how – ”

            “If you won’t let us be together, then my only other option is to find someone else, and there is no one else, Rei. There’s just you. So then I’ll be alone. Do you want to do that to me, Rei? How can you do that to me?”

            “Na-Nagisa! That is hardly comparable! I am not your soulmate.”

            “For someone so smart, you can be so incredibly stupid, Ryugazaki Rei!”

            “Nagisa, shh! Please stop shouting, our friends are asleep!”

            Haru turns around again, walks back down the hall to Rin’s room. He slips back through the door, closes it behind him, and jumps at Rin’s voice.

            “Rei’s here?” Rin asks, sounding groggy, and Haru glances at him, propped up on his elbow on his bed.

            “Arguing with Nagisa,” Haru says.

            “Those two,” Rin mutters, shaking his head and slumping back down on his bed.

            Haru says nothing until he is lying on the sleeping bag again. “Do you think they’ll work it out?” he asks, and he hadn’t altogether meant to say anything out loud, only meant to think the words.

            Haru can hear Rin shift on his bed.

            “If they can’t, who the hell can?” Rin asks softly, but Haru thinks he hears doubt there, between his sleepy words.

            Haru lets the doubt slide. He does not want to acknowledge it either.

            It is nicer to think that they will get what they want.

            Someone should, Haru thinks.

*

When Rin heads to the pool to continue preliminary training for the next Olympics, Haru accompanies him, but does not bother to take off his clothes, and simply rolls up his jeans to sit at the edge of the pool.

            “You’re not coming in?” Rin demands, pulling his goggles down over his eyes before reaching back to snap the strap in his usual habit that Haru thinks must be an unconscious reflex at this point.

            “No,” Haru replies, looking up at the ceiling of the pool, watching the familiar dance of the shadows reflected there.

            There are three days until Makoto is to be released into the ocean. The news is full of stories of people coming from all corners of the planet to see him, the first and last merman to ever live amongst humans. Just that morning, Haru caught a segment on the news about how fifty-seven Make a Wish Foundation wishes were granted just the day before allowing children to see Makoto.

            “You could train me,” Rin offers from on a diving block, and Haru glances at him.

            “What?”

            “Look, I killed my pride enough to say it once, I’m not saying it again. I know you heard me, Nanase.”

            “You have a trainer,” Haru reminds.

            “You’re better,” Rin says, shrugging.

            “I don’t know how to train anyone. You’re the swim coach.”

            “Are you going to train me or not?” Rin demands, and Haru feels as the lapping water of the pool inches up his shin to sink into the fabric of his cuffed jeans.

            “I’m not a trainer,” Haru says, and Rin waves his hand in annoyance.

            “Forget it, I don’t know why I even bother,” he snaps, then dives into the water, and Haru watches his fast strokes, familiar.

            Rin completes a few stretches, then swims over to Haru and hauls himself up on the ledge beside him, taking a break.

            “Before the Olympics, we agreed it didn’t matter if the other won gold. Remember that?” Rin asks, pulling his goggles up, and Haru nods at the quivering surface of the pool.

            They don’t usually talk about the previous Olympics, not since Haru’s – _I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine._

            But Haru does not mind that Rin has brought it up.

            “But I thought it would matter to me. I thought I’d be pissed at you, secretly, if you won gold and I didn’t,” Rin says, and Haru glances at him, sees that his friend is not even looking at him, but at the water as well.

            The lively reflection blankets Rin’s profile. Haru returns his gaze to the pool.

            “I wasn’t. I was just – I was amazed. You won by so much. It was crazy. And then I was concerned, you know. But I wasn’t jealous.”

            Haru doesn’t ask Rin why he’s telling him this.

            It’s something to say, to fill up the silence.

            “You need a job, Nanase. You should consider being my trainer.”

            “I don’t know how to be a trainer, Rin.”

            “You could figure it out,” Rin says, and Haru looks at him again to see that Rin is looking at him now, grinning his shark-toothed grin. He laughs. “All right, just think about it. Deal?”

            Haru shrugs, and Rin seems satisfied.

            Rin tucks his hair behind his ears, then places his palms behind him and leans back, tilting his head up to the ceiling.

            “Sousuke’s moving out,” Rin says, to the ceiling, and Haru nods even though Rin is not looking at him.

            “I know.”

            “I like Ai,” Rin says.

            “I know.”

            Rin laughs again, shakes his head. “You know, it’s all screwed up, but somehow I’m still glad I’m not you,” he says, glancing at Haru from the corners of his eyes, and Haru frowns.

            “Asshole,” he mutters, and Rin laughs again.

            “Maybe we’re just being dramatic. I mean, there’s got to be worse things than being in love, right?” Rin asks, and Haru considers this.

            _Are there?_

            “You need to see him before he leaves. I know you know that,” Rin says.

            “I don’t have to do anything,” Haru replies.

            “If you don’t, you’ll regret it. You’ve got three days. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing sitting at the edge of a pool watching me swim for. You haven’t even agreed to be my trainer, so you’ve got no reason to be here.”

             “Just because you always think you’re right doesn’t mean you are, Matsuoka,” Haru mutters.

            “Fine, be stupid, but what about Makoto? Don’t you think he wants to see you? Isn’t it rude of you not to go see him? He might think you hate him or something, I don’t know.”

            “Rin.”

            “What? For some reason, the guy’s into you, are you going to deprive him of getting to see you? He doesn’t give a shit about the people of Japan who’ve come to love him or whatever he said to the newspaper. He asked the aquarium for a week more in that stupid tank because of you. He wanted a week more to see you, and you haven’t even – ”

            “Rin, drop it.”

            “What, are you practicing or something? At how to keep your distance? Why don’t you just wait until you’re forced to not be able to see him again instead of inflicting it onto your—”

            “I can’t see him!” Haru snaps, and he listens to the echoes of his voice, how they shake even as they fade.

            Haru closes his eyes. Does not look at Rin, wishes Rin would go away, wishes he himself would disappear.

            “Haru…”

            _It’s bad enough just to think about him. How can I see him?_

            Rin is quiet for a second, but then he speaks gently, his voice as light as the shadows Haru watched dance over his profile just a minute before.

            “Look, Haru, I know I don’t know much about it. But I’m willing to bet that however much it will hurt to see him, it’s got to hurt so much more not to.”

            Haru does not know if this is true or not.

            But he does not go to see Makoto. Not for two more days.

*


	14. Chapter 14

It is the day before Makoto is to be released, and the aquarium is swarming.

            There’s nowhere to park, so Rin tells Haru to pull up to the curb, and he’ll take the car and pick up Haru whenever he’s ready to go home.

            It is the middle of the day. It is normal visiting hours, and Haru is not sure why he came so early.

            He should have waited until he could sneak up to Makoto’s arena with his M the M, FULL ACCESS card. He should have waited until they could be alone, but instead he came when the line into the aquarium is snaking out the front doors.

            Haru gets out of the car, and Rin does so as well so that he can switch to the driver’s seat. He clasps Haru’s shoulder, then gets back in the car, and Haru joins the end of the line.

            He is not wearing his lame disguise of fake glasses and a hooded sweatshirt, and is recognized almost immediately.

            “Is that – It is! Nanase Haruka?”

            “Did someone say – ”

            “Nanase Haruka?”

            “Haru?”

            “Makoto the Merman’s Haru?”

            “It’s him!”

            “From the video, remember?”

             “And the kiss!”

            “Haru!”

            Haru ducks his head, keeps his hands in his pockets, tries to tune out the chants of his name until his arm is being touched, and he jerks back, glaring at a young woman, maybe only a few years younger than him, who looks frightened of his reaction.

            “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to – It’s just – Go on. To the front of the line. We all want you to go ahead of us,” the girl stammers, and Haru stares at her, then around her at everyone who as moved aside, made a clear path through the chaos.

            Haru hesitates for only a second, then walks through the path, into the aquarium where word has traveled, and a path has been made for him inside as well, all the way up to the ticket counter where Haru sees a guy he recognizes from when he worked there.

            Haru has his M the M, FULL ACCESS card in his pocket, but does not think he will be allowed to use it, and pulls out his wallet to pay.

            “Haru,” the guy says, and he shakes his head. “We were wondering if you’d show. You don’t have to pay, obviously. Go on, you know where it is.”

            Haru looks at the guy for a moment, then repockets his wallet.

            “Thanks,” he mumbles, and there are cheers from everyone in the aquarium lobby that Haru ignores.

            He cringes when they start chanting his name. He hates this. He wants to leave.

            But he wants to see Makoto more.

            The line to Makoto the Merman’s exhibit snakes past the shark exhibit, past the penguins and dolphins and saltwater fish and freshwater fish all the way to the other end of the aquarium, the jellyfish exhibit, but Haru knows he does not have to wait in this line either.

            He follows the path made for him by the crowd. There are a few flashes, and he knows people are taking pictures.

            This is how Makoto has lived for over a year. This is what Makoto has gone through.

            _I know what it is like to live this way, and I do not want you to live behind a glass too._

            At the entrance of Makoto the Merman’s exhibit is the girl who trained Haru, ripping tickets, but she has stopped ripping tickets to watch him walk up to her.

            She is smiling. “We were waiting for you, Haru. After the first few days, everyone else said you wouldn’t come. But I knew you would.”

            Haru swallows, looks away from her at the two security guards who stand in front of the entrance to Makoto the Merman’s exhibit, but they do nothing to stop Haru as he walks past them, into the familiar room with the large tank.

            The room is empty. This is surprising – Haru was expecting to have to deal with more of a crowd in here, even if it would be limited to fourteen other people.

            He guesses, now, that the people in the exhibit were evacuated once the staff learned that Haru was here.

            He does not know how he feels about this special treatment. It prickles his skin, makes him feel as though someone is watching him.

            As though he has become a spectacle.

            _You would turn into something extraordinary, a spectacle, Haruka the Human instead of just Haru._

            Haru looks up into the tank, but Makoto the Merman is not behind the glass, waiting for him.

            Haru walks up to the phone in the corner, with Out of Order still taped over the money slot. He takes his credit card from his wallet, removes the taped label, and slides his card before picking up the receiver, listening to the silence for a few seconds before breaking it.

            “Makoto?”

            Haru hears Makoto before he sees him.

            “Haru.”

            And then there is Makoto’s body, small at first from far away in the tank, then growing, bigger and bigger, and Haru stares at Makoto’s tail, fascinated by its size, still not accustomed to it.

            He looks up from Makoto’s tail. At Makoto’s face, the small smile there, warm. At the halo of Makoto’s hair, soft and flowing, unruly and darker than when he has been out of water for a while.

            Makoto swims all the way up to the glass, then presses his hand against it, tan and large and warm, Haru knows, though he cannot feel it right now on his skin.

            “You’re behind a glass,” Makoto says, and Haru stares at him, thinks of how strange it is that he has said this.

            _No, Makoto. You are the one behind the glass, remember?_

            Makoto laughs. “I forgot. I’m behind the glass.”

            Haru presses the phone harder against his ear. He looks at Makoto’s palm, flat against the glass, and cannot raise his own to it.

            “I missed you, Haru.”

            Haru closes his eyes. His exhale is sucked from his lungs, his lips. He feels emptied.

            _I miss you. Still, I miss you, even though you are right here, even though I am right here. I miss you, Makoto, I miss you._

            “You look tired, Haru.”

            The phone beeps. The sound scares Haru, and he nearly drops it, forgetting that this is normal – it beeps when the time is up, and Haru has to slide his card again, so he opens his eyes and does so, presses the phone back to his cheek.

He looks at Makoto, who is looking back at him with that concern of his, though he smiles carefully when Haru’s eyes catch on his.

            Makoto’s brown hair flutters over his eyes, then flutters away again, shifted by the silent motions of the water.

            Makoto’s hand is still flat against the glass, and Haru knows Makoto is waiting for him to put his own hand up.

            He wants to. He really does.

            “I want to thank you, Haru. You freed me. Tomorrow, I will see my family again.”

            _Tomorrow._

            “Ren and Ran,” Haru whispers, and he is watching Makoto’s smile, expecting it to expand, and yet even so when this smile does grow over Makoto’s face, Haru is still surprised.

            He is still taken aback by this warmth on Makoto’s face, in the crinkles of his eyes over which his hair flutters softly, back and forth.

            “Ren and Ran,” Makoto repeats, and his smile is in his voice too.

            He is happy. Haru can see this clearly.

            Haru is happy too. He is happy Makoto can see his family again. Will be free again. Will no longer be in this tank, fed with trays from a cooler marked Makoto the Merman after the staff member rings the bell above his tank to summon him.

            “Haru.”

            _I’m sorry. What I said to you – I’m sorry, I’m sorry –_

            Makoto nods, moves an inch closer to the glass, his hand pressing flatter against the surface of it, Haru can see in the way the pale pads of his smoothed skin expand against it.

             “What you said to me, what was in that video. I understand, Haru. You want me to be safe. You do not want me to come back to you because you want me to be safe. I understand, Haru. I understand you, Haru,” Makoto says, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is urgent, a strange sort of desperation there that catches Haru’s breath, steals his voice.

            Haru clenches his jaw. Has no more words to offer but the ones he will not speak when there is a glass separating him and Makoto.

             “Haru,” Makoto says again.

            The phone is beeping. Haru does not move. He presses it harder to his ear, and the beeps are loud, and faintly over them is his name, soft, warm.

            _Haru._

            After a minute of the beeping, Haru moves again. Slides his card in the phone slot, and the phone stops beeping, and Haru looks up at Makoto, and Makoto looks back at him but says nothing about the phone, the beeping.

            Instead, he says, “I told the people on international television that I could not come back up to the surface of the ocean, once I was freed. That it would be too hard for me. And so – So you should not visit, you should not look for me. I – Haru – I cannot live like that, halfway out of my home. There is too much risk that I cannot take. You understand that, right?”

            Haru nods. He already knew this.

            Makoto is to be freed tomorrow.

            But that does not mean there are not people who will want him back. Who will look for him. Maybe not even for an aquarium. For something else.

            There are bad people in the world, Haru knows this. It is too dangerous for Makoto to ever come to the surface again, Haru knows this.

            _Yes, I understand, Makoto._

            “I wish it were different,” Makoto says, and it’s such a silly thing to say because it is so obvious, it is so futile.

            Even if it were different, Haru thinks, that would be no guarantee.

            Just loving someone is not enough. Just belonging with someone is not enough, and Haru is not sure what is.

            “Haru – ”

            “Um, Haru?”

            Haru turns at the voice that is not Makoto’s, that does not come from the phone he holds to his ear, that does not move with Makoto’s lips behind the glass.

            The girl who trained him stands by the entrance of Makoto the Merman’s exhibit, looks in hesitantly.

            “I’m sorry. I wish I could give you more time, but there’s a long line. You can come back after close, of course, but right now…”

            “It’s fine,” Haru says. “Just one more minute?”

            The girl nods, flashes him a quick smile, and waves at Makoto before disappearing again.

            The phone is beeping, so Haru slides his credit card again.

            “You have to go,” Makoto is saying, his voice already coming through the phone before Haru has it back at his ear.

            Haru nods once. Looks at Makoto’s hand, flat on the glass, is still looking at it when Makoto speaks again.

            “Will I see you tonight?”

              _I don’t know, I don’t know if I can._

            “I – I would really like to see you, Haru. Without this glass. I would really like to see you.”

            Haru can tell Makoto is pressing his hand harder against the glass. Circles of his skin – the pads of his fingertips, the base of his palm – are lighter than the usual tan of his skin.

            _I would give up the sea and I would give up the fish for him._

            “Please,” Makoto whispers, as if his lips are right against Haru’s ear, but it is not his lips, it is the phone, and Haru drops it before it starts to beep.

            He watches Makoto’s fingers curl against the glass, as though Makoto is trying to grab it, to rip it away from between them.

            “I have to go,” Haru says, and he is not holding the phone, so Makoto cannot hear him, but maybe Makoto is watching is lips, or more likely, he just knows because Makoto always knows, as if he is inside Haru’s head, as if there is not a glass between them, not even space between them, as if they are one, as if they are permanently together.

            Haru does not know if Makoto is watching him, because he does not look up.

            He turns around and leaves through the exit of the Makoto the Merman exhibit, and the moment he leaves, there is his name being shouted.

            He looks up, and sees what has to be nearly everyone in the whole world swarming around him, calling out to him, watching him, and Haru cannot catch his breath.

            He wishes he were drowning, for at least then, he would know why he cannot breathe.

*

Haru is not sure how he makes it out of the aquarium. He does not know how Rin finds him, he does not remember how he gets into his own car that is still being driven by Rin and where they drive for several hours until it is officially two hours past closing at the aquarium, and Rin is driving Haru back.

            Haru looks out the window at the empty parking lot of the aquarium. For the past week, visiting hours had been extended one hour in honor of Makoto’s last days. So really, it is only one hour past closing, and yet the place looks completely deserted compared to when Haru was there earlier that day.

            Rin stops the car right in front of the entrance.

            “Here,” Rin says, and Haru turns from the window to see that Rin is holding out a key.

            “What is this?”

            “Uh, the key to the aquarium building that you gave me when you got in the car? At least, that’s what you said it was, I don’t know. You said someone gave it to you so you could get back in after close.”

            Haru does not remember this. He only remembers the lightened circles of Makoto’s palm, straining against the glass of his tank. He only remembers the way Makoto’s fingers curled like they were grasping.

            “Are you going to take it or not?” Rin asks.

            Haru looks back out the window at the aquarium building.

            “I’m not going in,” he says.

            Rin sighs, and Haru waits for some lecture, some – _Don’t be ridiculous, Nanase, get your ass out of my car_ – even though it is in fact Haru’s car.

            “No matter what you do right now, he’s gone tomorrow. I’m sorry, Haru, that’s just how it is. If you go in there, if you go see him one last time, the worst thing that can happen is you get a few more memories of him to miss when he’s gone. If you don’t go, if you just go home, the worst that can happen is you don’t say goodbye to him. It’s up to you, I don’t know what to do, I won’t tell you want to do. It sucks all around, honestly.”

            Haru looks down at his knees, tries to put into words what he feels.

            “I always knew I was different. From all of you. But – I never really felt lonely, until I met Makoto. Does that make sense?” Haru looks up at Rin, who watches him carefully.

            “Not really, Nanase, I gotta be honest. But I guess you never really make sense.”

            Haru nods. He knows this. His friends don’t understand him. He doesn’t usually understand himself.

            But Makoto does. And until Haru met Makoto, he didn’t know how important it was to him, to be understood, to be known.

            To belong.

            In a swift movement, Haru takes the key from Rin’s still open hand and lets himself out the door, walks stiffly to the aquarium entrance and uses the key to let himself in.

            He only did so to get away from Rin, to be alone, and once he’s in the aquarium, he slows his movements, takes his time to lock the aquarium door again behind him, then heads not to the Makoto the Merman exhibit, but to the jellyfish exhibit.

            He trails the glowing tanks, examines each jellyfish as though he has never seen one before, as though it is the first time.

            There are the jellyfish that looked bleached, like x-rays of themselves.

            There are the jellyfish whose tentacles or tails or whatever they are called looked tangled into each other, long and stringy and knotted.

            There are the jellyfish that could be made of clouds, just as white and delicate and temporary, as though in a gust of wind their shapes might shift completely.

            There are the jellyfish that are stumpy and sturdy, that jostle each other in their squat way, that crowd the tank in clumps.

            Haru moves slowly. Takes in these jellyfish, then moves on to the next exhibit, the freshwater fish.

            He peers into their tanks. Watches their slow movements. They have nowhere to go because they have gone everywhere before. They have already explored every inch of their small worlds. There is nothing else to do but swim, and Haru once thought this would be the perfect life.

            To have nothing but water, but space to swim within it.

            He had been foolish, as a boy, but what boy isn’t?

            Haru makes his way through the aquarium, exhibit by exhibit, as if he has time to kill when it is quite the opposite.

            His time is running out. He lets it, like water slipping through cupped hands, the creases of his fingers.

            A few of the sharks in the shark exhibit are terrifying. Haru did not notice this before, on the few occasions he frequented this exhibit.

            He notices now. The lights of the exhibit are dimmed, since it is past closing time. The sharks move even slower than the fish, than the jellyfish. It is almost as though they are not swimming at all, yet somehow they get from one side of their tanks to the other.

            They do not notice Haru as they swim. Haru walks to the very front of their tanks. Presses his hand flat against the glass. Feels the cool of it. Wishes a shark would swim right at him, would look at him, at least, would make him feel less invisible.

            He does not know how long he spends in the shark exhibit, waiting to be noticed by these creatures that do not care about him in the slightest.

            By the time he moves, by the time he is climbing the stairs to Makoto’s arena, it is late. Haru checks the time on his phone before letting himself in to the arena, sees that it is nearly two in the morning. This is somewhat surprising, but Haru does not know if he is relieved or disappointed.

            He does not know if the time he has left is too much or not enough. He does not know what he would prefer.

            He lets himself into the arena, and the lights are already on.

            Makoto is not at the surface of the tank. Haru sheds his shoes and socks and rolls up the legs of his jeans, but he does not dangle his feet into the water. He sits at the very edge of the tank with his knees to his chest, his arms around them. He rests his chin on his knees, closes his eyes.

            He is so so tired, and he does not mean to fall asleep, but he does.

*


	15. Chapter 15

Haru wakes abruptly, his body stiff.

            He opens his eyes and sees Makoto beside him and knows he must still be dreaming, because it is impossible for him to wake beside Makoto.

            Makoto is sideways, which is even stranger, but then Haru realizes he is the one who is sideways, lying on his side.

            Makoto is not asleep.  His forearms are flat along the ledge of the tank’s surface, his fingers intertwined, his chin resting over them.

            Haru realizes he is not still dreaming. He fell asleep beside Makoto the Merman’s tank.

            “I did not want you to pitch forward into the tank, so I moved you onto your side. I hope that is all right,” Makoto says, his words so soft they remind Haru of a summer night, a feeling rather than a sound.

            Haru sits up, crosses his legs. He rubs the back of a hand over his lips, glances at his watch.

            He has not been sleeping long. It is half past four in the morning.

            “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he says.

            “You looked peaceful. Beautiful,” Makoto says, and Haru blinks at him.

            “You could have woken me.”

            “I have never seen you sleep before. It is something people in relationships see, isn’t it? They see each other sleep? It is a normal thing for them, but it was special for me,” Makoto says, and Haru wraps his hands around his ankles.

            Makoto’s hair is the lightest he has ever seen it. There are no drops of water falling from the ends of it. Haru wonders what it would feel like under his fingertips.

            He could find out so easily. Let go of his ankle, reach out his arm, weave his fingers through Makoto the Merman’s hair – he could do it, Makoto wouldn’t mind.

            Haru tightens his hands around his ankles. Looks down at the space between his crossed legs and Makoto’s forearms flat against the ledge of the tank.

            _If I touch you, I’ll forget how to let you go._

            “I understand, Haru,” Makoto says, a whisper.

            Haru peeks up at him, and they look at each other for a long moment, not needing to say anything, and somehow this is worse.

            Why Makoto?

            _Why you?_

            Of everyone in the world who could understand Haru, why did it have to be this merman?

            But Haru is not confused. He only asks out of anger. It makes sense to him, that it would be Makoto. Not a human. Haru was never quite like them, anyway.

            “Tell me about your friends, Haru,” Makoto says, his chin lifted from his hands now.

            Haru does not have to ask Makoto why he is asking about his friends. He knows why.

            Makoto wants to make sure Haru will be kept safe, when he is gone.

            _They take care of me._

            Makoto’s smile is slight. “Rin. With the shark teeth.”

            “He has a big heart, underneath how annoying he is,” Haru says.

            He does not want Makoto to worry about him.

            He will be fine.

            _FineFineFineFine…_

            “And Nagisa. He reminds me of Ren and Ran.”

            “Childish,” Haru says, not thinking, and Makoto tilts his head.

            “No. Ah, the Japanese words for it, I’m not sure…Like sunshine?”

            Haru thinks of his friend with his hand over his face, removing it to reveal glassy eyes.

            _Silly Nagisa. Nothing new there, I was never good with common sense, you knew that._

            “Is Nagisa okay?” Makoto asks, watching Haru in concern.

            “He likes our other friend. Rei – ”

            “With the irritated eyes! From your birthday, I remember, he gave Nagisa the dollar for the phone. I could tell. They are in a relationship.”

            Haru shakes his head once. “No. Just friends.”

            “Why?” Makoto asks, and Haru is not surprised that even Makoto, from just a glance, knows they are not supposed to be friends.

            Haru likes talking about Nagisa and Rei. It is easier than talking about himself. Than talking about Makoto. Than talking about tomorrow, which is really today, a couple hours from now.

            “They’re scared of a relationship. That maybe it won’t work out, and they’ll lose everything.”

            Makoto looks down at his hands now. “And you agree. They should be scared.”

            “I’m scared,” Haru says, but he didn’t mean to say it, and to hear the words are strange because they belonged in his head.

            He supposes it doesn’t matter. Makoto would know them in his head or out of it.

            Makoto looks up from his hands quickly. “You don’t need to be, Haru.”

            Haru is the one to look away now, at the side of the arena, at a wall he probably won’t ever look at again after tonight, but it is not the wall he gives a damn about looking at.

            He figures, since he’s already spoken out loud, and it doesn’t matter anyway, he might as well keep doing it, and gives the wall the words in his head. “It will hurt tomorrow. It hurts already.”

            Makoto is silent for a moment, and it surprises Haru when he speaks. “It would have hurt more if I’d never met you.”

            Haru thinks about this. Is shaking his head before he even realizes he disagrees. “No. No, it wouldn’t have. It never hurt before.” He turns from the wall now to glare at Makoto, and he is not sad anymore, and that is a relief.

            Haru is angry, but it’s better than sad, so he doesn’t try to stop himself.

            “Before the Olympics, before I saw you on the news and felt like I was drowning, before you, Makoto, it never hurt. It hurts because of you. You did this.”

            Makoto’s eyes are wet, like the drops of water from his hair have fallen into them, but that cannot be right because his hair is dry now, maybe completely.

            Haru’s chest squeezes. His pulse feels shattered.

            “I was fine, and now I’m not. Nothing is.”

            Makoto’s heavy-lidded eyes are wounded, as if he is hurt, as if Haru was the one to hurt him, but Haru didn’t do anything.

            He fell in love, but he didn’t mean to. It had been an accident, sort of the way drowning is. He hadn’t even known it was happening, and now he cannot breathe.

            Haru unravels his legs. Stands up. When he reaches for his shoes and socks by the side of the tank’s surface, Makoto’s hand catches on his arm.

            “Don’t go. Haru, don’t go,” Makoto says, and his voice is cracking as if it not a voice at all, but glass, shattering, splintering, smashing.

            _Why shouldn’t I? You’re going._

            “Let go of me.”

            “I cannot stay here. I cannot stay in a tank, Haru! I said I would give up the ocean for you, and that is not a lie, I would, I want to, but in this tank we are not together either! In this tank, seeing you after visiting hours, that is not together, and it is not worth forcing you to become a spectacle the way I am!”

            Makoto’s words are rushed, like he is worried he won’t have time to speak them all, and he’s right to worry.

            They don’t have time.

            “Let go, you’re hurting me,” Haru snaps, jerking his arm away, and it does hurt, Makoto’s hand is big and strong and tight on his skin, and it hurts, it hurts.

            “I don’t – I don’t want to hurt you, Haru, I don’t – ”

            “Then let go of me!”

            Makoto lets go, and Haru nearly stumbles back, but catches himself. He looks up to glare at Makoto, but Makoto is gone, and Haru is confused by the ripples left in his wake before Makoto appears abruptly out of them, rising up from under the surface.

            He must have submerged himself. Haru doesn’t know how long Makoto has had his head out of water. He doesn’t know how long Makoto can go out of water. Maybe it was in one of the informational pamphlets Nagisa was reading that first day, on Haru’s birthday, what feels so long ago, but it has not even been a year.

            Makoto is breathing hard, the way an Olympic swimmer might, after a race. The way Haru did, leaving the competition area to stick his finger down his throat and try to get the feeling of drowning out of his shaking body.

            Makoto’s hair is dark and dripping, plastered to his head. His eyelashes release water droplets when he blinks. His lips are parted as though he is about to speak, and then he does.

            “I am sorry that I hurt you, Haru,” Makoto says quietly, and somehow, his apology hurts more than anything else.

            Haru does not know what he is thinking, but whatever it is, he does not want Makoto to know it. He turns and walks out of the arena, the silence of his own response buzzing in his ears.

*

Haru didn’t expect Rin to be outside the aquarium with his car when he walked out.

            He is tempted to walk past his own car, but it is dark and cold, and Haru wants to be home as soon as possible, so he taps on the window of the passenger side, and Rin shifts in a jerking movement from the driver’s side where he was sitting with his head resting against his own window.

            The doors are unlocked with a click, and Haru lets himself in, closes the passenger door behind him, and buckles his seatbelt.

            “You’re early,” Rin says, turning the car on.

            The clock says it’s a quarter past five. The day shift staff arrive at the aquarium at eight to set up for nine o’ clock openings.

            “It’s late,” Haru says. “Let’s go.”

            “What happened?”

            Haru says nothing. Looks out his window at the entrance of the aquarium.

            He forgot to lock the front door behind him. The key is in his pocket. He should go back, but doesn’t care to, and doesn’t say anything to Rin, who puts the car in drive.

            “I’m sorry, Haru,” Rin says quietly.

            Haru’s second apology of the night. He hates it as much as he hated the first.

            _There’s got to be worse things than being in love, right?_

            Rin drives to Haru’s apartment building, parks in the lot, and they both get out.

            Haru has not slept at his own apartment since he released the video of himself and Makoto, but he is grateful that Rin has offered him this small gift – a night alone – without him even asking.

            There are no camera crews or protestors in front of Haru’s apartment building. Now that Makoto is to be released back into the ocean, there is no need for Haru to be trailed. He can have privacy again, his solitude, and Makoto can have freedom.

            This is what Makoto wanted. This is what Haru wanted.

            “He’s being released at noon,” Rin says, as if Haru might not know, and Haru is surprised to realize that before Rin said it, he didn’t know.

            He hasn’t been paying attention to the details. Makoto is to be free tomorrow. That is all he knew. That is all that seemed to matter.

            “At the docks by your childhood home. That harbor – do you know it?”

            _Here, kid, take this life jacket, tie it tight, make sure you tie it tight, those shoulders are still awfully skinny._

            Haru shrugs.

            “It’s only an hour from here. There will be traffic though, no doubt it’ll be a big thing. So a few hours then. We could leave at nine, to be safe. Eight-thirty, even.”

            Rin’s sentences are all questions. Hidden question marks that aren’t well hidden, with the lift of his voice at the end of each statement.

            _I can’t go._

            “Eight thirty,” Haru says, and he does not know why he is saying it, because he has no intention of seeing Makoto freed into the ocean.

            “Eight thirty,” Rin confirms, but his words still sound like a question, uncertain in Haru’s ears.

              _Are you okay, Haru?_

_I’m fine._

            Haru turns from Rin, walks into his apartment building. He does not offer Rin his couch to sleep on, even though he knows Rin will have to walk home, and it is already past five in the morning, and he’ll have to be awake in just a few short hours to drive to the harbor where Haru used to stand and watch the fishermen and their boats sail out into the middle of the ocean like their own little islands.

            They would pinch Haru’s skinny shoulders and laugh and make promises to him with no intentions of keeping them –

            _Maybe next time, kid._

*

It is ten in the morning, and the swarm of traffic is not moving.

            Rin has his mouth gaping open, asleep against Haru’s shoulder, and Haru does not push him off only because he has already pushed him off three times, and each time Rin simply fell back against him again.

            Haru is starting to wonder if Rin is being obtusely annoying on purpose.

            Rei drives with supreme patience, seeing as they have moved maybe half a foot in the last ten minutes.

            Nagisa is in the passenger seat, and Haru does not know if he is surprised or not by Nagisa’s close proximity to Rei.

            They are pretending to just be friends. Maybe this is a forced proximity.

            “We’ll never get there!” Nagisa complains, not for the first time.

            “Of course we will,” Rei replies smoothly.

            “Who are all these people anyway? They didn’t know Makoto,” Nagisa mutters, then peers behind him and locks eyes with Haru, who wishes he were still looking out the window.

            The sky, as Haru observed it minutes before, is brilliantly cheerful today. Crowded with sunlight and almost blinding.

            “We’ll make it, Haru,” Nagisa says, as though Haru did not hear him hardly a minute before groaning the opposite.

            Haru keeps his hands between his thighs and the seat cushion. He is digging his nails hard into the cushion, but underneath his thighs, they are hidden.

            He nods as if he believes Nagisa.

            “Of course we will,” he echoes Rei, just as smoothly, and he wonders if Rei was lying about his own certainty just as much as he is.

*

It is half past eleven.

            The sunlight has burst into the car, and Haru is sweating.

            He shoves Rin off of him, and Rin groans.

            “Wha?”

            “Get off me.”

            “’M sleeping.”

            “Lean the other way, against the door.”

            “Shuddup, Nanase.”

            Haru contemplates hitting him in the face.

            “Just a few more miles,” Rei says cheerfully, adjusting his glasses.

            He has been saying this for the last hour. Haru wants to hit him even more.

            “Shut up, Rei,” Nagisa sighs, and Haru is grateful for him.

            He tries to dodge the harsh rays of sun intruding through his window, but they are relentless and inescapable.

            Haru’s nails hurt from digging into the cushion, and he relaxes his fingers, feeling his hands tingle beneath his sweating thighs.

*

It is noon.

            Haru closes his eyes when the clock on the dashboard says 11:59 so he does not have to see it change.

            Rin is awake.

            “Fuck, it’s hot in this freaking car.”

            “It’s twelve,” Nagisa says.

            “What?” Rin asks. He sounds groggy. Haru wonders, eyes still closed, if Rin has wiped the drool from his chin.

            “We’re almost there,” Rei insists, and his voice sounds strained.

            “What if they already – ”

            “Shut up, Nagisa,” Rin snaps.

            Haru does not know why he left his bed that morning. He cannot remember. Maybe this is all just a dream, anyway. It doesn’t quite feel real.

*


	16. Chapter 16

“Haru.”

            Haru does not know what time it is. He opens his eyes and sees that Nagisa has turned around in his seat again to look at him.

            “You have to get out and walk. It’s just a few blocks that way according to Rei’s GPS. I’ll come with you.”

            Haru glances at the dashboard clock. It is half past noon.

            “Haru knows where it is, he grew up right here,” Rin says.

            “Really, Haru? Oh yeah, it is right by our school, I didn’t even realize! I bet you came to these docks all the time,” Nagisa says.

            Haru has no idea why they are talking about the past like it matters at all.

            “I can’t get through, no one’s moving,” Rei says. He sounds completely stressed, unraveled.

            Haru is cramped and hot in the car. He wouldn’t mind stretching his legs. He looks out the window and sees that there are other people weaving through the lines of cars, and he is amazed that they all want to see Makoto too.

            Were they also in love with him?

            Did they also feel as though they were drowning when they saw him?

            It does not seem likely.

            “Haru, are you listening?” Nagisa asks. He sounds very serious, very concerned. His concern sits on his face differently than it sat on Makoto’s. Nagisa’s concern comes with wide eyes. He leans forward. He speaks very slowly.

            “Yes,” Haru says.

            “Yes, you’ll walk?” Nagisa asks.

            “I’m listening,” Haru corrects.

            “Will you get out and walk with me?” Nagisa asks. There are some parts of Nagisa’s concern that are like Makoto’s. His voice is soft. There is a crease between his eyebrows.

            “They won’t release him without you, Haru. He’s got to still be here,” Rin says, which is clearly incorrect.

            If Haru never shows up, they are not going to keep Makoto imprisoned forever. That would be inhumane.

            “I’ll walk,” Haru says, but just to stretch his legs.

            He is so cramped, so hot in this car. He just wants to get out. He feels trapped.

            Nagisa nearly jumps out from the passenger side, but Haru moves more slowly, unbuckles his seatbelt and hears Rin doing the same thing beside him, opens his door and sees Rin doing the same thing across from him.

            They get out of the car, and Nagisa has ducked his head through the open passenger side window to say something to Rei, and then they are walking.

            Nagisa walks quickly, almost runs, then backtracks back to Haru and Rin, then runs forward again, then backtracks again.

            Haru knows Nagisa wants to rush him, but he isn’t saying anything, which is an impressive feat for Nagisa, and Haru appreciates it.

            A few minutes after they start walking, Haru hears his name. He knew this would happen. He ignores the voices, and imagines what today’s newspaper headline was, since he did not see a copy of the newspaper before Rei picked him up at his building.

            _A Tearful FareWHALE_ , he thinks, but that annoys him even in his thoughts, because Makoto is not part whale. He is part orca, and the orca is a member of the dolphin family.

            _Sea You Later, Makoto!_

_A Great Wave of Goodbye to Makoto the Merman_

_Seayonara, Makoto!_

“Haru!”

            This time, the call of his name is accompanied by a tug on his arm, and Haru whips around but finds Rin rather than a stranger holding his wrist.

            “This way, you were veering. Pay attention, will you?”

            Rin does not let go of Haru’s wrist, and Haru doesn’t mind, lets himself be pulled through the cars and people, and alongside shouts of his name are honking horns as he passes by.

            The crowd thickens in front of the docks, but Nagisa is in front of Rin shouting something, and then the crowd is parting, and everyone is looking at Haru, and Haru is ignoring them but his hands are in fists, and Rin’s grasp tightens around his wrist.

            “It’s okay, Haru,” Rin says, looking swiftly back, and Haru stares at him.

            He is breathing hard, but only because Rin is pulling him so quickly, he is out of breath from walking and that is all.

            There are camera crews and more people than Haru expected could fit in Japan, not to mention his little harbor where he went almost daily as a child, and there seems to be no room at all but somehow they all move out of the way to clear a path for Haru, who wants to close his eyes.

            He keeps them open but squinted because the sun is in them. He looks only at Rin’s back, the space between Rin’s shoulder blades where a stain of sweat darkens the light blue of his t-shirt. Haru’s pulse is above his skin. His heart has swollen too large for his chest and is leaking into other caverns of his body – his shoulders, his stomach, his spine, his neck, behind his ears, along his thighs, in the creases of his knees.

            Despite the large crowd, despite the repetitions of his name, no one is cutting into his path, shoving a microphone or camera into his face, and this is strange, but Haru does not want to question it.

            And then in front of Haru is a familiar face, though it takes a second for Haru to place it.

            “Hello, Nanase Haruka. I am glad you could make it.”

            The translator from Makoto’s press releases. Haru stares at him, no longer walking, no longer being pulled by Rin.

            There is a huge tank beside the translator, taking up half of the dock that is already too overcrowded with people, and Haru doesn’t know how he didn’t notice it before until he remembers he was keeping his gaze trained only on Rin’s back so that he wouldn’t have to notice anything.

            The tank is empty, so Haru looks back at the translator, who smiles softly at him.

            “Makoto has warned the camera men and news castors to leave you alone,” the translator says, and Haru blinks at him.

            He doesn’t know what to say. He could ask if Makoto is still here, but he doesn’t know if he wants the answer.

            He doesn’t need to ask. The translator steps aside. “Go on.”

            There – at the edge of the dock where Haru would sit, his legs dangling towards the ocean, watching the fishermen take their boats out and away from him – is Makoto.

            Half of Makoto. The human half, his arms on the ledge of the dock, holding him up, his torso showing and his shoulders, his neck and his face and his hair that is dark brown and dripping over his small smile.

            “Haru,” he says, and Haru walks towards him, stops in front of him, crouches down because his knees shake, and he nearly falls forward onto them so that they dig into the wood of this dock he used to come to so often as a boy.

            Haru opens his lips but does not say anything. He is aware of everyone behind him, around him, watching. The cameras. The news. The public.

            He wants them to disappear. What do they have to do with himself and Makoto? What do they have to do with his heart that has spread by now even to the bottoms of his feet, even to the grooves of his fingerprints?

            “I am sorry about the people,” Makoto says.

            It is not Makoto’s fault that he is incredible. That the entire world wants to look at him. He is beautiful. He is amazing, and Haru, still, is not used to him.

            “Do you like being in the ocean again?” Haru asks, mostly to have something to say, and Makoto’s smile crinkles his heavy-lidded gaze.

            “Yes. I love it. Thank you, Haru.”

            “You will see your family soon. Ren and Ran.”

            Makoto nods. “Yes,” he says, and he looks so happy, but his eyes are wet, and he blinks quickly.

            Haru realizes he has kept Makoto waiting. He has kept Makoto from his family, from his siblings, his best friends, longer than was necessary.

            He tries to explain.

            “The traffic – ”

            “It’s okay, Haru.”

            “You should go now.”

            Haru’s heart is in his throat. He doesn’t know how he managed to speak around it. He doesn’t know how his voice even escaped.

            Makoto nods, then laughs quickly. “There are so many people. It is…embarrassing,” he says breathily.

            _What is embarrassing, Makoto?_

            “I have to, I want to say – ” Makoto licks his lips. One hand cups the back of his neck. His cheeks are tinged darker, and Haru is somewhat fascinated by this.

            Blushing. Makoto is blushing.

            He realizes what this means.

            “Don’t,” he says quickly, when Makoto opens his lips again.

            _I know. I know what you want to say, I know what you are thinking the way you know what I am thinking. Don’t say it, not for them. Not for all of these people and their cameras and the news. Let us have this privacy, this one thing, please, Makoto._

            Makoto exhales softly. “Okay, Haru,” he whispers.

            _Me too._

            Haru knows Makoto will read his thoughts. He knows Makoto will understand that he feels the same way as the words he stopped Makoto from saying.

            “I know,” Makoto says, but he smiles anyway.

            This should be it, but there is still Haru’s shame from the night before – earlier that morning, actually, just hours before.

            “Makoto. What I said to you – ”

            “It’s okay, Haru – ”

            “It’s not. I didn’t mean it. I would – I would do everything again – I would drown again – Makoto – ”

            Makoto laughs. “Please do not drown again, Haru.”

            Haru stares, amazed by Makoto’s laugh at a time like this, when he is so serious and his heart has stretched too wide over his body so that it must surely be tearing, but then he feels himself smiling back, just at the sound of Makoto’s laugh, how warm it is and how it crinkles Makoto’s eyes.

            Makoto calms himself down and reaches out, touches Haru’s lips. “I like your smile, Haru,” he says, and Haru freezes under his touch.

            He exhales against Makoto’s fingers, which linger a second more before Makoto takes his hand back.

            “I forgot about the rest of the world for a second. Sorry, Haru,” Makoto apologizes, but he does not look sorry, and he does not sound sorry, and Haru really doesn’t mind all that much.

            _A Whale of a Kiss._

_Merman on the Market?_

_Makoto is Homebound!_

Haru does not care how this moment is documented by the rest of the world. How they label it, in some catchy headline as if a few words can capture what feels like everything.

            “I guess I have to go,” Makoto says, after a sum of silence.

            _Yes. You have to go._

            “I will practice the swim strokes you taught me. Freestyle. Breaststroke.”

            Not backstroke. That requires the surface of the ocean, too dangerous now that Makoto is known around the world.

“I will teach Ren and Ran. They will be happy to learn some human customs.”

            “They will be so happy just to see you again. I’m sure they’re incredibly worried,” Haru replies.

            “I do not think so,” Makoto replies simply, and Haru does not know what to make of this response.

            Makoto runs his hand through his hair, slicking it back but for clumps that fall forward again, almost into his eyes.

            “I am sure they are expecting me. That is a merman custom, Haru. Regardless of where we leave to, or how long we are gone, we always come back to those we belong to.”

            The words stain Haru’s skin like they are sunlight rather than sound, and Haru does not know what to do with them, how to understand them.

            _What are you saying to me, Makoto?_

_Why are you saying it?_

“I have already said goodbye to Japan and the rest of the world through the cameras while I was waiting for you, Haru. I think it is time for me to leave now. We have been, ah – stalking, no, stalling, is that right?”

            Haru is still preoccupied with Makoto’s previous statement, but he manages to nod.

            “We should stop stalling,” Makoto says.

            _Why?_

            Makoto smiles, his warm smile. Genuinely happy, and Haru cannot imagine why.

            “Haru, can I tell you another secret?”

            Haru swallows.

            “I guess it is not a secret. The whole world knows, I think. But I need to make sure you know too.”

            _What is it, Makoto?_

Makoto lifts himself up with his arms so that he can lean forward, and his lips are right against Haru’s ear.

            Warm. Haru’s face burns.

            When Makoto whispers, Haru closes his eyes. “You are my favorite human, Nanase Haruka.”

            Makoto’s lips are gone. Haru hears a splash but still does not open his eyes.

            The underside of his eyelids is cool and dark and a relief to the blinding sunlight. Haru knows that Makoto is gone now, and does not care to see the absence of him.

            Instead, he replays the whisper in his head as though he is hearing it again for the first time.

            _You are my favorite human, Nanase Haruka._

_You are my favorite human, Nanase Haruka._

_You are my favorite human, Nanase Haruka._

            Even when the crowd of people surrounding him grow loud, Haru hardly hears them over the whisper of his favorite voice.

*


	17. Chapter 17

_Missing Makoto_

            Haru reads the headline spread on top of the newspaper Rin must have thrown on the bench alongside his stuff. He is somewhat disappointed. Even he thought of cleverer headlines than this.

            Underneath the headline is a picture of Makoto smiling at the edge of the dock, and underneath that picture, Haru sees as he unfolds the newspaper, are two more slightly smaller pictures.

            One of Makoto touching Haru’s lips, one of Makoto leaning forward to whisper in Haru’s ear.

            The entire feature takes up the whole front page. A waste of ink, Haru thinks.

            “Are you seriously going to train me from the bench?” Rin shouts, splashing in the pool, and Haru glances at him, putting down the newspaper.

            He doesn’t care to read it.

            “I’m not training you,” he replies.

            “Then why the hell are you here?” Rin mutters, getting out of the pool only to crouch on the diving block and dive back in.

            Haru watches him. His form is familiar, but not perfect. Haru can see where Rin can improve.

            He could train him. Rin texted him a half hour ago, after all, asking him to come to the pool to do just that.

            Haru came to the pool, but he had no intentions of training him. Just wanted to leave his apartment, really.

            Solitude does not have its previous comforts.

            It is mid-afternoon. Haru can guess Rin was teaching a class before he texted Haru. Rin has a job, and Haru knows he needs one.

            Training is a job. It’s something to do. Haru doesn’t mind swimming so much, anymore. It is starting to feel right again, safe again, the way it did with Makoto beside him.

            It is no longer everything, as it used to be, but this is not particularly surprising. Haru knows he has changed. He is tired of wishing for the past. It’s a fruitless exercise, really.

            While Haru watches Rin’s stretches back and forth across the pool, the door of the pool opens with a loud click. Haru does not turn to look at who it is, and leans forward to watch the way Rin’s arms come out of the water, slip back in, seamless. He thinks about Makoto, struggling with the turns of his arms, mixing up backstroke and freestyle forms when Haru taught him.

            “You gave in? I’m surprised, Nanase.”

            It is Sousuke, who sits beside Haru on the bench, and Haru glances at him.

            Sousuke smiles. “Here for water aerobics. Want to join?”

            “No,” Haru says, and Sousuke laughs.

            “I see you’re training Rin.”

            “I’m not.”

            “You’re watching him pretty closely.”

            “What do you think of his breathing? The turn of his head looks a half-second off, it could be more streamlined,” Haru says, and Sousuke laughs again, but looks at Rin.

            “I think you’re right, Coach Nanase.”

            “I’m not training him.”

            “Sure, sure.”

            They watch Rin in silence for a few more laps before he takes a break, stopping at the side of the pool closest to the bench and hooking his arms over the ledge.

            He peels back his goggles, nods at Sousuke.

            “Yo, when’d you get here?”

            “Nanase says your breathing is off.”

            “It is not!” Rin bristles, glaring at Haru, who shrugs.

            “I don’t care. I’m not training you.”

            “How is it off?” Rin demands.

            “You turn your head right as your arm comes out of the water. Wait a half second longer so when your arm enters the water again, the turn of your face back underwater is more natural for your body,” Haru says, and Rin stares at him for a second, then readjusts his goggles.

            “No kidding,” he mutters, and then he’s swimming again, and Haru watches, sees Rin adjust his breathing to his instructions.

            It’s better. Rin’s a fast learner, but he should be, and he doesn’t have much to learn anyway. He’s already pro, already nearly perfect. There wouldn’t be anything to train him, but it’s not like Haru is even considering it.

            “Good advice, Coach,” Sousuke says.

            “It wasn’t advice. Just something I noticed.”

            “Just train the guy, he’ll lay off your back and you’ll make a few bucks, what’s the harm?” Sousuke sighs, reaching up and stretching, then standing to shed his clothing.

            Haru turns back to Rin. At the next Olympics, just about two years away, Haru knows Rin will win gold.

            Haru could do the Olympics again. He doesn’t think it will be the same. He doesn’t think he will feel as though he is drowning.

            But he doesn’t feel the same way about swimming anymore. He does not want it to take over his life. He does not want it to be the only thing he loves.

            “I found a new apartment. It’s a little far,” Sousuke is saying, peeling off his track pants to reveal swim trunks.

            Haru nods. “Have you told Rin?”

            “He knows I’m looking.”

            “How far?”

            “An hour,” Sousuke says, and Haru glances at him.

            “That’s far.”

            “Yeah,” Sousuke agrees.

            Haru knew, on some level, that he and his friends could not always live beside each other. It would not always be like it was in high school, even in college.

            They are growing up. It’s not a choice.

            “Rin will be pissed,” Haru offers, and Sousuke laughs.

            “Yeah, well. He’s always pissed about something, isn’t he?”

            Rin surfaces again, as though sensing he’s being talked about, and he looks up at Haru, grinning a shark-toothed grin as he peels off his goggles.

            “Shit, Nanase, you know your stuff. You’ll train me, right? Seriously,” he gushes, and he looks so hopeful, so excited – a familiar look on Rin – and Haru does not want this one thing to change.

            He sighs. “Fine, Matsuoka.”

            Rin slaps the surface of the pool in a large splash. “Yes!”

            “You have to listen to everything I say,” Haru warns.

            “Yeah, yeah.”

            “I mean it, Rin.”

            “Don’t push it, Nanase, I agreed, didn’t I?” Rin asks, and he weaves his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face.

            “You’re going to regret this,” Sousuke points out, glancing at Haru, who is well aware of this.

            “I know.”

            “Hey! Shut up!” Rin shouts. “Sousuke, you coming in? Wanna race?”

            “I can’t race, Rin. I’ve got water aerobics to do,” Sousuke sighs, shaking his head.

            “You’re so lame,” Rin mutters.

            “What’s wrong with you, asshole?” Sousuke snaps.

            “Haru, race me!” Rin shouts, and Haru finds himself thinking about it.

            “I don’t have my swimsuit.”

            “Excuses,” Rin replies, and Haru glances at Sousuke, who shrugs.

            “Might as well beat him, the humility will shut him up, at least,” he says, which has Rin complaining again, and Haru stands up, strips to his boxers and steps up to a diving block.

            “One race,” he agrees, as Rin shouts in victory and hauls himself out of the pool.

            “On my count,” Sousuke says, standing between their diving blocks.

            Haru closes his eyes. The last time he raced was the Olympics with knives in his throat.

            Now, listening to Sousuke count down from three, he feels free.

            “Three, two, one – _Go!”_

            Haru dives into pool, and the water parts seamlessly around him, welcoming him back where he belongs.

            _Come on, Haru!_

*

Haru stands at the end of the dock, his toes curled over the edge.

            He bought a boat with his Olympic winnings, or what is left after living off those winnings since the Olympics. It is a small sailboat, one that will not withstand any storm, one that is unwise to take out into the middle of the ocean where Haru plans to take it.

            It is tied to the dock, and after watching the ocean for a few moments, Haru turns, unties his boat, and climbs aboard.

            He does not know much about sailing. He took one lesson after buying the boat and uses the small knowledge he gained to steer it out to the center of the ocean, right in that spot he was watching, right where sea meets sky.

            The wind is gentle today, and movement is slow. Haru can’t remember if there was something he could do to speed it up, but he doesn’t mind the slow pace.

            It is not like there is anyone waiting for him.

            The surface of the ocean is calm, a deep, deep blue that could be black. Haru stands at the edge of his small boat, looks into it. Even if there were anyone below, Haru would not be able to see the lines of his body, the tan contours of his torso, the dark outline of his depthless black tail.

            Haru steps back from the edge. He wears a life jacket that fits snugly over his shoulders. They are broader now. No longer skinny, pinched by fishermen who laughed.

            The sky is clear, a soft blue grey, like watercolors mixed. No sign of a storm.

            Haru looks back, watches the shoreline. He tries to steer, hopes he is not going in circles, but it looks as though the shore is far from him now.

            For weeks now, the headlines have changed from missing Makoto to moving on, but Haru is not like the public.

            He has not stopped missing Makoto.

            He has not started moving on.

            Training Rin is a distraction. It is difficult to find flaws in Rin’s strokes, and takes concentration, complete focus.

            Haru doesn’t think he’s unhappy, really. It feels more as though he is crouched on a diving block, toes curled over the edge. As though he is waiting, the sounds of the crowd dulling until it is only his heartbeat in his ears, steady, calm, like the surface of the water before he breaks it.

            In the distance, the sky meets the sea. Haru is no closer than when he stood on the edge of the dock. He knows this is because he can never actually reach the horizon. He’s not really trying to get there. He’s not expecting anything.

            He’s just becoming an island in the middle of the ocean, alone and surrounded by water.

            It is not what he thought it would be as a boy, but maybe nothing ever is.

*

“Have you got a job?” Rin asks, and Haru peers at him.

            “I’m your trainer.” He had thought this was obvious by now.

            Rin waves him off with one hand while pulling off his goggles with the other. “Obviously, don’t be stupid. I mean, what do you do with the rest of the day? Before you come here? Got some part time or something?”

            “No,” Haru replies, pulling on his t-shirt.

            “Then what are you doing?”

            “Sailing,” Haru replies, stooping down to tie his sneakers.

            “I can never tell when you’re being serious or bullshitting, you know.”

            Haru doesn’t reply, because it’s not a question.

            He is tired. It is almost midnight, and he’s warned Rin several times about not overtraining, yet he himself cannot resist from staying out late.

            It exhausts him, and he falls asleep much more quickly the longer he stays out at the pool with Rin.

            “Okay, let’s say you’re being serious. Sailing? Where did you even get a boat?”

            “I bought it,” Haru replies, standing up, and Rin stares at him with hands on his hips.

            “You bought a boat.”

            “Ready?” Haru asks, leading Rin out of the pool area.

            “You don’t know how to sail.”

            “I took a lesson.”

            “So now you’re some sailing expert?”

            “No,” Haru says, waiting for Rin to walk out from the back door of the building before turning to lock it behind them.

            The owners of the pool must know it’s being frequented after hours by people who technically should not have copies of the keys, but nothing has ever been done about it, so Haru feels no guilt in breaking in almost daily as he has done for years.

            “Are you looking for him?” Rin asks, as they head home.

            They walked today, the weather too nice to drive.

            “No,” Haru replies, slipping his hands in his pockets.

            He has seen other boats alongside his on his daily sails into the ocean. It would be too dangerous for Makoto to come up to the surface. It is with relief, really, that Haru returns to shore every day without seeing him, an assurance that Makoto is safe.

             “Have you seen him?”

            “No.”

            “Do you want to see him?” Rin asks, and Haru glances at him for a moment, then looks away again.

            He doesn’t feel the need to answer this question, and Rin sighs.

            “Yeah, stupid question, I get it. Hey, can I ask you something?” Rin asks, as if he has not been asking questions nonstop, and Haru stares up at the sky, knowing no response he could offer would stop Rin from asking whatever he pleases.

            “You guys ever had sex?”      

            Haru turns to stare at him, and Rin is blinking back, a shark-toothed grin slipping over his lips.

            “He’s a merman, Rin,” Haru replies, astounded by how stupid his friend is.

            “So? They still reproduce, don’t they? So they’ve still got dicks. Whale dicks. Probably fucking huge,” Rin muses, sounding somewhat in awe, and Haru turns away from him, shaking his head.

            “You’re so stupid, Matsuoka.”

            “Look, I’m not saying it’s gonna fit anywhere, or vice versa, who knows what you’re into. I mean, he’s got a whale dick – orca, I mean orca, from the dolphin family, don’t bother, I know the spiel. It’s not compatible, I get that. But I mean, there’s, you know, oral,” Rin says, and Haru laughs without meaning to.

            It surprises even himself, and he quickly covers his lips.

            “Did you just laugh?” Rin demands. “Or are you crying? I can’t tell, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before.”

            “Will you shut up, Rin?” Haru asks, collecting himself.

            “I’m asking you if you’ve sucked the guy’s orca dick, it’s not a difficult question, jeez, you are so secretive about everything. We’re supposed to be friends you know, friends talk about this shit.”

            “Have you sucked Ai’s dick?” Haru replies, and Rin makes a strangled noise.

            “What the hell, Nanase! Shut your mouth, we’re almost at my street!”

            Haru shakes his head but says nothing.

            “Honestly, Nanase, you breathe a word to Ai, and I’ll kill you,” Rin warns.

            “Just tell him, he likes you back.”

            “You think I don’t know that? I’m not a fucking idiot,” Rin mutters, and Haru exhales, stopping with Rin in front of his house.

            He waits, knowing Rin will continue.

            Rin shrugs at Haru, tucks his hair behind his ears. “If we confess, then what? We go out? Date? In front of Sousuke? Seems like an asshole move.”

            “So you’ll wait until next week when he moves out and date behind his back,” Haru says, and Rin winces.

            “No. I don’t know. Yeah, I guess. What are we supposed to do?” he asks, and Haru doesn’t have an answer for him. “Jeez, listen to me. Please tell me I’m not as annoying as Nagisa and Rei.”

            “You’re more annoying,” Haru supplies, and Rin punches his shoulder, but not hard.

            “Shut up, Nanase. Who asked you?” Rin flashes a last shark-toothed grin, steps backward up the path to his house. “Tomorrow?”

            Haru nods. “Don’t eat right before our session this time, I don’t want to wait to get started.”

            “Shut up. Have fun sailing,” Rin calls, behind his back as he’s turned around, and Haru watches him for a moment, then turns and walks the rest of the way back to his building.

            He is eager to get home. He is exhausted, and has an early morning the next day, likes getting his sailboat out on the waters before the rest of the boats join him on their daily search for Makoto the Merman.

*


	18. Chapter 18

It is seven weeks since Makoto has been free, and Haru is in Sousuke’s new kitchen, at an apartment an hour away from where Haru and the rest of his friends live.

            Although Sousuke has been at his new place for a month, it is Haru’s first time there, and he knows he is the first of his friends to visit.

            He is unsure how Sousuke has kept Rin away, and does not ask. It is Sousuke, who brings up Rin a half hour into playing some shooting video game – Haru thinks it’s James Bond, but wasn’t really paying attention – on Sousuke’s couch.

            “I’m guessing you know about Rin and Ai,” Sousuke says, while he shoots Haru and kills him for the fourteenth time, according to the number on the upper left corner of Haru’s side of the screen.

            Haru crinkles his nose in disappointment. He thought he’d win that time.

            While numbers on the screen count down to the start of another round, Haru responds. “Yes.”

            He doesn’t see the need to elaborate. He’s unsure how Sousuke knows – did Rin tell him? Even a guy as obtuse as Rin must know that would be insensitive.

            Sousuke laughs softly. “Nagisa told me, of all people. Called me last week and asked if I wanted to Skype. It was weird, I don’t know that I’ve ever talked with Nagisa one-on-one before.”

            “Nagisa?” Haru asks, glancing away from the screen, which he regrets after hearing the sounds of his character’s screams signifying his death – familiar to him, after fourteen, now fifteen, times.

            “You really suck at this,” Sousuke says, then glances back at Haru. “Yeah, Nagisa. Weird, isn’t it? I didn’t even know he knew I was into Rin.”

            “I didn’t tell him,” Haru says quickly, and Sousuke rolls his eyes.

            “I wasn’t accusing you, Nanase. I think Nagisa’s more intuitive than he lets on. I mean, he didn’t tell me that he knew, but obviously he did, why else would he have Skyped me to tell me? He was really nice about it too,” Sousuke muses, turning back to the screen, so Haru does the same, watches Sousuke change his machine gun to a rifle.

            Haru wonders if he should change his weapon. He knows nothing about guns. He decides to change his as well – to the machine gun Sousuke discarded.

            “He asked about my new apartment and stuff, then just sort of casually slipped it in there that Rin and Ai started dating, like some offhand update on my friends, that’s all. I didn’t even know Nagisa could be casual,” Sousuke says, laughing his soft laugh again.

            “I’m surprised Rin didn’t tell you in some panicked phone call,” Haru replies, after trying to think of something to say for several seconds while he ran from Sousuke’s character on his screen.

            “I haven’t talked to Rin at all since I moved,” Sousuke says, sounding surprised, and Haru turns to look at him again, forgetting that he really isn’t skilled enough to take his eyes from the screen for a second.

            There are the familiar screams, and then Sousuke’s looking at him too.

            “What?”

            “You’re best friends,” Haru says, blinking at him.

            There is a crease between Sousuke’s eyebrows. “There’s a reason I moved, Haru,” he says slowly. “Rin was the reason, I moved to get away from him. It’d kind of defeat the purpose to call him up every night for a regular chat, don’t you think?”

            “You’re just not going to be friends anymore?” Haru demands.

            The idea is ridiculous. They love each other, and maybe it’s a different kind of love on both ends, but it’s still love, and Haru understands why Sousuke had to get out of the same house as Rin, but to never speak to him again?

            Willingly?

            When they have a choice?

            It almost makes Haru angry. It almost has his fingers curling hard against the controller in his hands.

            “We’re still friends,” Sousuke replies, and his voice is sort of hard, as if he’s the one who has the right to be angry.

            “You won’t even talk to him,” Haru snaps.

            “What are you getting all pissed about?” Sousuke snaps back, dropping his controller to his lap and turning fully on the couch to face Haru with narrowed eyes. “This has nothing to do with you, Nanase. This isn’t your business.”

            “You’re being stupid!” Haru replies, but instead of dropping his controller, he only clutches onto him more tightly, so that his fingernails dig into the plastic of it and start to hurt. “You and Rei both! You both are putting distance where it doesn’t need to be!”

            “Rei? What the hell are you talking about? Wait – Are you comparing me and Rin to Nagisa and Rei?” Sousuke asks, looking completely incredulous.

            Haru shakes his head, grits his teeth, then unclenches them. “Why shouldn’t I? I get that it’s different, that Rei is being an idiot forcing himself and Nagisa to be just friends. But you’re hardly better, not even talking to Rin, not even being friends with him when you have the chance, when it’s not impossible for you.”

            “Oh, because he’s not in the ocean, right?” Sousuke says, understanding smoothing the crease between his eyebrows, though his eyes are still narrowed. “This is about you, somehow, Rin and I are about you, right, okay, I get it, cause that makes so much sense.”

            Haru looks away from Sousuke, at the floor beside the couch, his skin burning. “You don’t know how lucky you are,” he mutters.

            “Lucky? Jesus, Haru, get a grip. Look, I feel bad for you, I get it, it sucks that Makoto is gone. But you don’t get to belittle me for the choices I’ve made to make myself a little less miserable, okay? You don’t get to judge me for not being able to talk to Rin. You don’t know a thing about it, don’t pretend you do, don’t pretend the shit between you and Makoto is anything like the shit between Rin and I. I know Makoto can’t be with you, I know that sucks. But Rin can be with me, Nanase, right? He can, but he _won’t_. You don’t think that’s worse? You don’t think that makes me feel so much more shitty? Fuck you, Haru.”

            Haru closes his eyes to the floor. It was carpet. An off white, he pictures, looking at the dark insides of his eyelids like the image of Sousuke’s floor is projected there.

            He can hear Sousuke breathing hard. He listens, waits for Sousuke’s breaths to even out, and it takes a long time, several minutes, Haru thinks, though he can’t be sure.

            But before Haru can think of an apology, Sousuke is speaking again.

            “Sorry,” Sousuke mutters, his voice quiet now, small, and Haru opens his eyes, sees that Sousuke is speaking with a hand over his own eyes, just resting there as if he’s hiding himself from Haru.

            Haru drops his gaze to Sousuke’s lips instead, watches them move.

            “I got over this a long time ago. I did, I swear, it’s not even a big deal anymore. It’s just – I guess I just miss him. That’s all. It’s getting under my skin, not seeing that asshole every day, but I’ll get used to it, I’ll get over it. I did before. I know how to get over Matsuoka Rin. It’s not like it’s impossible. It’s not like it’s anything new,” Sousuke mumbles, with his last sentence, his hand falling from his eyes, and he looks at Haru in a resigned sort of way, and his lips are turned up at one side in empty amusement, but mostly he just looks tired.

            Tired of getting over Rin.

            Haru nods.

            He’s tired of getting over Makoto, and he hasn’t even been trying to, he hasn’t even been doing it for as long as Sousuke has.

            “I didn’t mean to compare you to me,” Haru manages, too quietly, and he thinks maybe Sousuke doesn’t hear him until his friend replies.

            “Don’t worry about it. Want to keep playing? It helps to get my pent up anger out, getting to kill you over and over,” Sousuke says, flashing a weak smile, and Haru doesn’t object.

            They turn back to the screen, and Sousuke clicks the button for a rematch, and Haru watches the numbers count down on the screen.

            _Three, two, one…._

*

“Your pacing is awful,” Haru says, as Rin comes up for air and a break at the ledge where Haru sits, jeans cuffed up and feet and ankles in the water of the pool, his shoes and socks beside him.

            “No, it’s not,” Rin snaps back, pulling off his goggles. “You can’t train me from the ledge of the pool anyway, get in here and race me.”

            “I’m your trainer, you have to listen to me.”

            “Race me!” Rin complains, as he’s been complaining since Haru started training him.

            He hasn’t raced Rin since that time a few weeks before when he first agreed to train Rin, even though it was refreshing, even though it felt kind of amazing.

            He’s too tired to race. He doesn’t get much sleep, sailing during the days and training Rin until late at night, sometimes even until hours in the morning, though Haru’s been trying to cut back. As much as he needs sleep, Rin needs it more if he’s going to be in Olympic shape in a few years.

            “I’m not here to race you, I’m here to tell you what to do,” Haru reminds him.

            “I swim faster when I race you,” Rin grumbles.

            “I won’t be racing you at the Olympics, so you’ll have to learn how to swim faster on your own,” Haru replies easily, used to Rin’s complaints by now. “You’re starting out too slow and picking up too abruptly. You should speed up gradually on distance swims. It doesn’t need to be so dramatic.”

            “What? How is my swimming dramatic? Come in the water and show me yourself, what kind of coach sits on the ledge of the pool? How come you never get in the pool anymore, Nanase? I thought you were over all that,” Rin mumbles, but he’s pulling himself out of the pool and getting back on the diving block, yanking his goggles back over his eyes before diving in.

            Haru watches him, his itch to join his friend vague and hardly noticeable.

            The water is safe again, welcomes him again, but not like it used to. Haru no longer feels the pull of it, the need to be constantly submerged.

            His pull is towards the ocean now, where the sea meets the sky. That is where he itches to be, even though he knows he’ll never make it there. The horizon is never within reach. It’s a viewpoint, a distance, a stretch of eternity that Haru points his sails towards.

            Haru shakes his head, concentrates more on Rin. Rin’s strokes are so familiar to him, he must focus completely in order to see any flaw, any difference from one stroke to the next, and this is why Haru likes training Rin.

            As much as Rin complains, once the guy is back in the water, he follows Haru’s instructions, and it’s up to Haru to find some other flaw, something else to fix, and that requires all of his concentration, every ounce of thought, so that there is none left for him to waste on thoughts of other things, like skies and oceans and Makoto the Merman swimming beneath them, back where he belongs.

*

A few months after Haru takes to sailing each day, he no longer looks into the waters for Makoto.

            He sails because he enjoys it, the salty smell of the ocean, the quiet of the sea in the early morning. Sometimes, he even sees the sunrise, and he always sails towards it, a race with the sun.

            His hands have become calloused from the ropes of his boat, feel like a stranger’s hands more than his own, but he does not mind this.

            This stranger, he thinks, might be happier than he is. It is not so bad a thought, that he might live this stranger’s life from now on.

*

It is Rei’s birthday, and Rei insisted on nothing fancy, so it was decided that they’d just do dinner and drinks at Rin and Ai and Momo’s place.

            The only person who is not there is Nagisa. Even Sousuke has shown up, though it has been over two months since he moved out, and Haru knows that means it’s likely been over two months since he’s even talked to Rin.

            Rin and Ai stand on opposite sides of the kitchen, which would not ordinarily be conspicuous other than the fact that since they have been dating, Haru has found that he doesn’t much enjoy being in the company of both men at the same time, as Rin is outwardly clingy in a way Haru never would have guessed.

            Even so, Sousuke could not have known of Rin’s usual annoying displays of affection, and so maybe, Haru hopes, he does not think anything is out of the ordinary. 

            When the timer goes off, Ai turns from where he was talking to Sousuke by the sink.

            “Haru, can you check that?” he asks, probably because Haru is closest to the oven, so he stoops down, grabs an oven mitt, opens the oven, and pulls out the cake.

            “Looks done,” Haru says, placing it on the stovetop.

            “You can’t just look at it,” Rin replies, rolling his eyes by the refrigerator. “You have to poke it.”

            Haru lifts his finger, but Rin jumps over and grabs his wrist.

            “You need to learn to make more than mackerel!” Rin chastises, shoving Haru away and rummaging in a cupboard, coming back with a toothpick, which he sticks into the center of the cake.

            He pulls out the toothpick, and it is clean.

            “It’s done,” Rin announces, throwing the toothpick in the sink, which Ai fishes out to place in the trash can.

            “Want to ice it?” Ai asks, going to stand beside Rin, who lifts his arm and rests his elbow on Ai’s shoulder – a habit he had before they started dating, Haru knows.

            He glances at Sousuke, who is aimlessly turning one of the stovetops on and off, the fire flickering up in a quick swoop, than vanishing, then flickering back again.

            Sousuke is not looking at the stove, but staring at the sink in the place where Ai vanished, and Haru doubts he is even aware of what he is doing.

            This is the first time Sousuke is seeing his old friends – other than Haru, who visited him a few more times after the first – since he left. More importantly, it is the first time he is seeing Rin in nine weeks, an abnormally long stretch of time for them not to have been in contact at all.

            Haru knows all of this. He knows that Sousuke had gotten used to being in love with Rin, he knows that Sousuke spent years loving Rin with nothing in return, he knows this shouldn’t be new to Sousuke, but it is.

            Sousuke and Rin have lost their previous comfort. They have hardly said a word to each other since Sousuke got to the house. Haru wishes he didn’t notice, but he did, he does, it’s too noticeable, it’s too different.

            “We should draw Rei with icing. Like, his glasses and stuff. That’s what Nagisa would do. Have you got red icing?” Rin asks.

            “We’ve only got vanilla.”

            “Food dye, then?”

            “Rin, you live here, you know we don’t have red food dye,” Ai replies patiently.

            Sousuke keeps turning off and on the stove.

            Rei walks into the kitchen as Rin is just finishing icing the cake, and Sousuke has stopped turning on and off the stove to dig around drawers for candles, even though Ai insisted they didn’t have any.

            “My parents say hello to everyone,” Rei says, pocketing his phone on which he had been talking to them in the living room, and at that moment, there is the sound of the front door opening.

            Haru glances over Rei’s shoulder to watch Nagisa flounce into the kitchen, looking windswept and flushed.

            “Sorry,” he announces, leaning on a counter as he catches his breath, “my boss called me and I couldn’t get off the phone with her – Hey, why are you using vanilla icing and not chocolate?” Nagisa asks, distracting himself by looking at the cake.

            “I’m glad you came, Nagisa,” Rei says formally, and Nagisa looks from the cake to Rei.

            “You thought I wouldn’t come to your birthday?” Nagisa asks, while Rin loudly asks Sousuke if he’s found any candles yet.

            “I – That is not – I did not say that, I simply said I am happy you came,” Rei manages, looking away from Nagisa, who continues to stare at him, and Haru realizes that Nagisa is not holding a present, which is odd because Nagisa always insists on the importance of birthday presents at no matter what age.

            “Found candles!” Sousuke announces, standing up with a pack of them in his hand.

            “Oh, I was sure we’d used the last of them on Haru’s birthday,” Ai says.

            “You said we had to be friends,” Nagisa is saying, not seeming to care about the candle situation. “Friends come to each other’s birthday celebrations. Or is this too much for you? Do you need more distance from me?” Nagisa demands.

            “We definitely don’t have twenty-five,” Rin says, going over to Sousuke and taking the pack of candles from him.

            Sousuke steps back from Rin the moment Rin takes the candles. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

            Haru doesn’t know whom to look at of his friends. He doesn’t want to look at any of them. He doesn’t understand how it all got to be this way – messy and messed up.

            “Nagisa, please let us not argue about this again,” Rei insists, his voice strained.

            “You could put two on one side of the cake and five on the other,” Ai suggests, walking over to Rin and Sousuke and taking the pack of candles from Rin.

            Sousuke looks away from them, stares at the wall above the sink, and Haru looks away from him, at Nagisa, who is shaking his head.

            “You’re right,” Nagisa whispers, voice small, and he clears his throat. “I’m sorry. It’s your birthday – Happy birthday, Rei.”

            Rei clears his throat as well. “Thank you, Nagisa.”

            Haru’s friends fall quiet, then, and Haru is unsure if it is only in his head that their silence is full of discomfort and unease, as if even amongst lifelong friends, no one is quite certain where they belong.

*


	19. Chapter 19

It is not until everyone is going home – other than Rin and Ai, who already are at their home – that the discomfort from early on in the evening of Rei’s birthday celebration is brought back.

            Haru is talking to Ai in the kitchen about Rin’s training when Rin comes in from the living room, holding a plate laden with crumbs and heading to the sink.

            “Yo, Nanase, you too tired for a mini-training session? I’m still amped up, I could go for a few laps.”

            “No,” Haru replies, glaring at Rin. “You need to rest your muscles. No swimming until our practice tomorrow.”

            Rin rolls his eyes. “You’re one to talk. I didn’t see you out of the pool for a second in the months before our Olympics. “

            “Rin, listen to your trainer,” Ai chastises, just as Sousuke comes into the kitchen with his own stack of plates – Haru assumes he took Nagisa and Rei’s dirty plates along with his own.

            Sousuke stops rather abruptly at the entrance of the kitchen on seeing Rin and Ai, and with the jerkiness of his stop two forks fall from his stack of plates, clattering to the kitchen tile and alerting Rin and Ai to his presence.

            Sousuke stoops down, muttering a small apology as he stands back up and goes to the sink, which Rin has stepped away from.

            Rin is watching Sousuke in a strange way Haru cannot quite name. It looks almost like sorrow, but Haru isn’t certain, does not want to make assumptions, feels bad to even be in this room with the three former housemates and contemplates different ways in which he might slip out.

            When Sousuke turns on the faucet at the sink, Ai steps forward.

            “Hey, don’t worry about that, we got it.”

            “It’s fine,” Sousuke says, not looking at Ai.

            “You don’t live here anymore, Sousuke, you’re not under any obligation to do the dishes,” Ai says, lightheartedly, smiling, but Sousuke looks up to stare at him then, his gaze blank.

            Rin clears his throat.

            “What?” Ai asks.

            “Nothing,” Sousuke replies jerkily, turning back to the dishes. He grabs the sponge, pours too much dish soap onto it.

            “Hey, don’t waste our soap, Yamazaki,” Rin says, without his usual spark, in a sort of lackluster way that sounds strange and forced, and Haru knows he is trying to get back to their old friendship, teasing and harsh but strong and real.

            “Shut the fuck up, Rin,” Sousuke snaps, and it’s too angry, too abrupt, too genuine.

            Haru watches Rin pale, his shoulders drop.

            “Okay, what is going on between you two? I’m sick of it being kept from me, and Rin, don’t just say it’s nothing again, it’s clearly not nothing. Is this – Sousuke, is it about Rin and I? Being in a relationship? I don’t even want to assume that, I don’t want to think that of you, but I honestly can’t come up with anything else, and frankly, I’d be really disgusted if that’s what your problem is,” Ai says, his voice growing weaker when Sousuke turns to stare at him again, no longer blankly, but with a surprised sort of confusion.

            “What?” Sousuke asks, clearly incredulous.

            “What?” Ai asks back, defensive.

            Rin winces and glances at Haru, who had thought they’d all forgotten he was even in the kitchen.

            Haru shrugs, unsure of what to say.

            “Um, guys, ah,” Rin says, and Haru feels just as confused as Ai and Sousuke look, unable to interpret both of their reactions.

            Ai shakes his head, looking resigned but also angry, and this confuses Haru only more. “It’s one thing to feel uncomfortable that two of your best friends are dating. But if this has something to do with the fact that we’re both guys, I don’t know that I can – ”

            “What?” Sousuke asks again, this time louder, and Rin covers his face with his hand.

            “Shit,” Rin mumbles, and Sousuke stares at him, then back at Ai.

            “You think I moved out and stopped talking to Rin because I’m homophobic?” Sousuke asks, his voice rising with each word, and now Ai is blinking in confusion.

            “I – I don’t know! I just – I thought – Sousuke, I don’t – ”

            Sousuke’s mouth is open, and then he’s laughing, a loud, bitter, abrupt laugh that fills the kitchen, and Haru hears a swift silence from the living room, where Haru had forgotten Nagisa and Rei had been talking until this sudden hush.

            “What – What’s going on? Rin?” Ai asks, staring from Sousuke to Rin, who has not moved his hand from his face, and he mumbles something unintelligible into it.

            Nagisa and Rei have appeared in the doorway of the kitchen by now, and they all watch as Sousuke slowly calms down and regains his breath.

            “I gotta say, I didn’t see that one coming,” Sousuke says, sounding breathless and bitterly amused and leaning against the sink.

            “Are you going to tell me what you’re talking about?” Ai demands, hands on his hips and staring now at Rin.

            Ai takes a hand from his hip, reaches out and grabs Rin’s wrist, pulls Rin’s hand off from over his face.

            “What am I missing here?” he insists, and Rin blinks at him, looking sheepish.

            “Sousuke is not homophobic,” Rin says weakly.

            “Then what is it? Because we’re all friends? Is that it? What, do you think it’s awkward or something?” Ai asks.

            “I really thought you would have told him,” Sousuke muses, not sounding angry, not sounding sad, not sounding anything, really.

            Rin glances at him. “I wouldn’t have done that.”

            “Why not? Is it embarrassing? Am I embarrassing?” Sousuke asks lightly, and now Rin bristles, his face reddening.

            “That’s not it! I was protecting your privacy! I wasn’t going to talk about you behind your back! I was being a good friend!” Rin snaps.

            Sousuke, to Haru’s surprise, smiles at this, a small smile. He nods once. “Yeah, that’s true. You’ve always been a good friend, Rin. The very best friend, I could always count on that to never change.”

            “It’s not my fault!” Rin shouts, though he sounds less angry now, more helpless, and Haru takes a breath, looks away from them at the stovetop.

            “What is going on?” Ai demands again. “Rin?”

            “I can’t – Ai, I can’t tell you – ”

            “I’m in love with Rin,” Sousuke says, in an incredibly straightforward way, like it’s just a simple fact, nothing remarkable, nothing surprising, nothing to dispute.

            _It’s not something consciously on my mind, it’s just – It’s just the way it is. A part of me, a fact of life. My name is Yamazaki Sousuke. I am in love with my best friend Matsuoka Rin._

            Rin’s exhale is loud in the quiet kitchen, but Haru still doesn’t look up at any of them.

            The silence stretches on until it is too much, and Ai breaks it with a very soft, very small, “Oh.”

            “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter. It won’t make a difference in your life. Right, Rin?” Sousuke asks lightly, and Haru closes his eyes.

            “Sousuke, come on,” Rin mumbles weakly.

            “You’re right, I’m being childish. I’m embarrassing myself, aren’t I? Making an idiot of myself, making everyone feel awkward and uncomfortable – ”

            “Sousuke – ”

            “Look, Rin, I am sorry. And you too, Ai. I know I could make this easy. I know I could hide it, or act like I’m over it. I know I could pretend not to care, I know I’ve done that for years, I know I could do it again. I could pretend that being friends with you is enough, and I wouldn’t have to ruin our friendship, I know I don’t have to do this. But I’m so fucking tired of pretending. I’m so tired of that,” Sousuke says, his voice remarkably steady, and maybe it shakes just once, just twice, just a few times, but Haru doesn’t think Sousuke can be blamed for that.

            “I didn’t know, Sousuke,” Ai says quietly, earnestly, but Sousuke doesn’t seem to hear him.

            “I can’t do this with you anymore, Rin. I just can’t. I tried to, I tried to come here and just – just pretend like I used to but – I feel like I’m losing my mind and I – I don’t know why anything has changed, but it has, and it can’t change back, and I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t be friends with you anymore. Maybe I’m overreacting or being dramatic or some shit, I don’t know, I just know I can’t do this, stand in this kitchen with you and make small talk about wasting fucking soap. I can’t do that. I’m really sorry. You were my best friend – you are, you still are – I’m really sorry,” Sousuke says.

            There is a hollowed silence, and then – “Sousuke,” Rin starts, but his voice cracks, and he clears it, starts again. “Sousuke, look, you don’t – You’re my best friend too, and – And I know it must be hard – I mean, I don’t know, I don’t, but, fuck, even if you need distance now, I understand that, but I think we could, we could still be – If you can’t talk to me now, I can get that, but I can’t just not be friends with you, that’s not, that seems ridiculous, come on, Yamazaki, come on, don’t be stupid,” Rin says weakly. “You’ll get over me. You’ll find someone else, someone, you know, better, you deserve better, I’m just – I’m not – ”

            “Rin, don’t do that, don’t patronize me,” Sousuke sighs.

            “I’m not! I didn’t mean it like – ”

            “I know my feelings are inconvenient for you, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real, okay?”

            “No, I know that, I know that, I’m not – Shit, Sousuke, come on,” Rin insists, and Haru isn’t sure what he’s insisting.

            That nothing should change?

            No, that Sousuke’s feelings should change, as if just to ask Sousuke to change them might work, might be enough.

            “I know you’re uncomfortable talking about this. It’s fine, it’s okay, I get it, Rin. I’ll go now, I should go,” Sousuke says, and Haru looks up, sees Sousuke’s tiredness, Rin’s helplessness, Ai’s worry.

            “Sousuke, come on,” Rin says again, urgently, but Sousuke has already turned around, turned off the faucet which has been on the whole time, Haru hadn’t even noticed.

            What a waste of water, he thinks vaguely.

            Rei and Nagisa are still in the doorway, and Sousuke does not seem surprised to see them there, merely reaches out to clasp Rei’s hand.

            “Happy birthday, Rei,” Sousuke says, and Rei nods, adjusts his glasses with his free hand.

            “Thank you, Sousuke,” he says softly, and then Sousuke slips out the space Nagisa offers, and there is quiet until the sound of the front door opening and closing breaks it.

            “How long have you known?” Ai asks, after a few seconds, and Haru glances at him to see him looking up at Rin, whose hand is in his hair.

            “Years,” Rin replies, voice strained.

            “Oh,” Ai says again. “That’s why you waited for so long to go out with me.”

            “Yeah,” Rin breathes.

            “Did everyone else know?” Ai asks, looking around now, and his eyes catch on Haru’s, who takes a breath, nods.

            “Only recently,” he offers.

            “Me too,” Nagisa adds in, and Rei shakes his head.

            “I have known for some time,” Rei replies, and Haru is not surprised. “Since I met Sousuke.”

            Of course Rei would have picked up on it. He’s always picked up on everything, noticed everything, a genius not only when it comes to books, but people too.

            Haru could never understand how the only thing Rei could be so dense about was Nagisa, but maybe, he thinks now, that makes sense. Feelings cloud rationality, and Rei has always had the most feelings for the man standing beside him now, looking up at him in the way Nagisa has always looked up at Rei.

            “It’s not my fault,” Rin insists, as though he has not been listening to the conversation at all, as if maybe he thinks Sousuke might still be in front of him. “It’s not, I swear, if I could – But I don’t, I can’t, and – He’s my best friend,” Rin says tightly, and Ai slips his hand in Rin’s.

            “He just needs space. He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay,” Ai says, and Haru wonders if Ai could possibly believe what he’s saying.

            It seems to Haru that it’s obvious Sousuke will not come around. It seems to Haru that if Sousuke was capable of not loving Rin, he would have done so a long long time ago, to protect himself, to protect their friendship, to protect Rin.

            It seems to Haru that desperation does not have anything to do with love, and even when one is desperate for a switch to turn it off, it seems to only become stronger anyway.

            They say “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” and it seems to Haru that this is true, that this is unavoidable, and even if there is only ever absence, the heart will only keep growing fonder and fonder until it is too big to fit in one’s chest, until it is taking up the room of the lungs, until it becomes suffocating, until it becomes impossible to breathe.

*

When Haru brings his sailboat back to the dock after another day of sailing, there is Nagisa, sitting with this legs over the edge of the dock, dangling.

            He smiles at Haru as Haru comes closer, as if it is not strange for him to be there, and after Haru ties his boat securely in place, he joins Nagisa.

            He will be late to his training session with Rin if he does not start heading back home and to the pool, but Haru is in no rush. Rin has been swimming much sloppier lately, and Haru is getting annoyed at him, at having to give the same instructions over and over when he knows he shouldn’t even have to give them at all – Rin is better than this, knows everything Haru tells him.

            It has been four days since Rei’s birthday. Haru understands that Rin is preoccupied with what was said, what was shouted, what was ended.

            Even so, Haru doesn’t have room for sympathy as an Olympic trainer. Rin knows better than to let himself be distracted.

            Swimmers who are distracted do not win gold.

            “Do you think he knows you’re looking for him?” Nagisa asks, when Haru settles beside him, watching the ocean he had just sailed into the middle of.

            Haru does not bother asking who Nagisa is referring to. Nor does he bother with the lies he usually tells himself – that he is not looking for Makoto, that he is just sailing because he likes to sail, he likes the salty air and the water surrounding him, and that is enough to bring him out every morning, that is enough to keep him coming back every day.

            “He told me not to,” Haru replies.

            Nagisa hums. “But you know, Haru, people – and mermen too, I’d guess – say things they don’t mean all the time. Most of the time, probably.”

            Haru glances at his friend, the familiar profile where one of Nagisa’s usual dramatic set of expressions is missing.

            Instead there is only calm, like the surface of a pool, smooth as glass.

            “It’s not so bad, waiting. You get used to it,” Nagisa says, leaning back on his palms, flat against the dock behind him. “It’s the giving up that really hurts.”

            Haru blinks at Nagisa, who looks at him then, his head cocked and a slip of a smile appearing on his lips.

            “So don’t give up, okay, Haru?”

            Haru examines his friend carefully. “Why are you here, Nagisa? Is everything okay?”

            Nagisa’s smile widens into more of a Nagisa Smile. “Of course not,” he says happily, which makes no sense, but Nagisa often doesn’t make sense.

            Haru stares at him, waits for some explanation, and Nagisa sighs, lowers his torso so that he is lying on his back on the dock, staring up at the sky with his hands behind his head.

            “After Sousuke said those things to Rin, I realized it was silly of me to feel so helpless about Rei. Sousuke said that just because his feelings are inconvenient, it doesn’t mean they’re not real. It’s the same with Rei and I, really. Rei thinks loving me is inconvenient. That I love him is inconvenient. That somehow, it’ll mess us up, ruin our friendship. I understand that. I used to feel that way too,” Nagisa says, eyes roaming the sky, and Haru looks up, curious as to what Nagisa is seeing, though he is aware that even if he and Nagisa look at the same sky, they will likely be seeing something entirely different.

            There are very few clouds, and those that do occupy the clean blue sky are wispy as unraveled cotton.

            “But our feelings are still real,” Nagisa continues, while Haru worries the clouds will disappear altogether, and then there will be none left. “And they won’t go away. And when Rei realizes that, he’ll stop being so annoying and let us be in love like we’re meant to be. It’s okay that he’s taking a long time to realize that. It must be hard being so smart all the time. Of course there had to be something Rei was slow at. I just wish it was something that didn’t matter, like calculus or physics or something,” Nagisa sighs.

            Haru blinks at the sky, surprised at Nagisa’s turnaround, his sudden certainty.

            Everyone had always been certain about Nagisa and Rei, other than Nagisa and Rei themselves. And now, when Haru has finally begun to doubt that they would ever actually get together, Nagisa is the one claiming otherwise.

            It shouldn’t be so much of a surprise, Haru reasons. Nagisa never did like agreeing with everyone else.

            “So you’re just going to wait for Rei to realize you’re supposed to be together?” Haru asks, and Nagisa hums again, this time affirmatively.

            “I just hope he realizes before we get old and wrinkly. We’re at the ages of our prime sexual capacity, it’s really wasting precious time that he’s being so annoying,” Nagisa muses, and Haru has nothing at all to say to this, so he stays quiet.

            They watch the sky for a few more minutes, and then Nagisa sits up and announces he’s freezing, and Haru tells him he has to get going anyway, Rin will be waiting for him.

            “How did you know about Sousuke?” Haru asks, when they’re at their cars, after Haru convinces Nagisa that switching cars for the drive home makes no sense at all and he is not going to do it.

            “What about Sousuke?” Nagisa asks, crinkles between his eyebrows.

            “How he feels about Rin,” Haru replies, unsure what else Nagisa might think he’s referring to.

            He’d had no idea of Sousuke’s feelings, and would not have known had Sousuke not told him that day at the pool. Haru can rationalize Rei knowing – Rei does know everything – but Nagisa?

            _I think Nagisa’s more intuitive than he lets on._

            “Oh that,” Nagisa says, his eyes lighting up. “I realized at the Olympics. When you started winning – Haru, you were crazy incredible, I’m still in shock, I’ll probably be in shock my whole life, you were lengths ahead of every single swimmer in every single lane, no one could take their eyes off you. Well, no one except for Sousuke. The first race you won, Sousuke wasn’t even cheering when you hit the side of the pool at the last lap. He didn’t even notice. He was still watching Rin, and that’s when I knew. It was just sort of obvious after that, I don’t know how I didn’t realize before.”

            “Oh,” Haru says. That’s longer than he thought Nagisa knew, and Haru tries to think back to some time when Nagisa acted differently towards Sousuke, but he comes up with nothing.

            Nagisa is a better secret keeper than Haru thought, but then, he did have practice with his own secret for so many years. And really, Haru is finding that it’s pointless to have expectations when it comes to Nagisa, as lately, he’s been constantly proving them wrong.

            “It’s not really fair, that Sousuke loves Rin, don’t you think, Haru?” Nagisa asks, and Haru blinks at him, his hand in his pocket, already around his keys.

            He rubs the pad of his thumb over the ridges of his keys, lightly.

            If Haru thought about it, he would have found the unfair thing to be that Rin didn’t love Sousuke back, not that Sousuke loved Rin in the first place. But maybe, in the end, it’s the same thing.

            He shrugs. “I guess not.”

            Nagisa looks at Haru a second more, then nods. “Let’s go home, Haru,” he says, and Haru nods back, takes his keys from his pocket, unlocks his door and gets into his car.

            He lets Nagisa reverse first, then follows him, driving the familiar roads back home that he’s been driving every single day since Makoto the Merman has been gone, and Haru the Human has been missing him.

*


	20. Chapter 20

Haru’s twenty-seventh birthday is one month away.

            He has already spent a birthday without Makoto the Merman. Although really, that is an inaccurate thing to say. Haru has spent all of his birthdays without Makoto the Merman besides his twenty-fifth, and even that one was not _with_ Makoto the Merman, but _watching_ Makoto the Merman.

            Haru has never really cared much about his birthday. It is his friends who usually make a big deal, but a year before, everything was freshly broken, and Haru’s birthday had been a quiet affair, like Rei’s but without the shouting.

            Haru is entering the pool after a day of sailing when he receives Sousuke’s text, asking if he’s busy, if he wants to come over and play video games.

            _Training_ , Haru replies, thinking it would be unnecessary to text, _Training Rin._

            _ah right,_ is Sousuke’s response.

            Haru is closing the text conversation when Rin bumps his shoulder, appearing from the stairwell of the locker room.

            “Yo, you’re late. Again,” Rin says. “How was sailing?”

            “Why aren’t you warming up?” Haru replies, which has Rin grumbling.

            The next Olympics is just around a year away now, and Haru is starting to feel as desperate for Rin to win gold as he knows Rin is.

            This is Rin’s Olympics. Haru knows this. But he won’t let Rin slack off in the meantime.

            By midnight, Haru is wrapping up practice, knowing that at this point in their training, rest is as important as work, and he sits on the bench in the locker room while Rin gets dressed.

            “You seen Sousuke lately?” Rin asks casually.

            Haru is used to this question. He is the only one of their friends who sees Sousuke often, and knows Rin has not seen Sousuke at all in the six months since Rei’s birthday.

            “He’s fine, Rin.”

            “You’re so annoying. Of course the only source of information I have would be you, the least descriptive, most cryptic person in the universe,” Rin snaps, pulling on his sweatshirt angrily before grabbing his jacket.

            “What do you want me to say? You ask me every week, there’s nothing new,” Haru replies, standing up to lead Rin out the locker room.

            “There’s never anything new,” Rin complains.

            “How is that my fault? He’s doing fine.”

            “What is your obsession with the word fine?” Rin demands.

            “What is your obsession with Sousuke?” Haru retorts.

            “He’s my friend, I should know how he’s doing! This is so ridiculous, how long is he going to keep this up anyway?”

            Haru sighs, holding the door of the pool open for Rin to walk out before he locks it behind them.

            “Rin, I think you need to come to terms with this. He’s doing better. The distance is good for him,” Haru says, trying to be gentle, and he can tell Rin is glaring at him without looking up from his key in the lock of the door.

            “I could say the same thing to you about Makoto, I could tell you it’s about time you come to terms with it, but do you see me giving you crap about looking for the guy a year and a half after he was freed into the ocean? No, you don’t, so don’t you give me crap, Nanase.”

            Haru pockets the key, turns to start their walk home, regretting not driving so he could get in his car and away from Rin.

            “It’s not the same, Rin,” Haru sighs.

            “Yeah, yeah, you thought you saw his fin or whatever like five times in the past month, so that means you’re not a helpless case, right? You’re disillusioned, Haru, that’s what you are. You’re hallucinating, inhaling all that salty ocean air is going to your head. So no, it’s not the same, because I’m not going crazy, I’m just asking for updates on my friend, which I don’t think is all that unreasonable, do you?” Rin mutters, and Haru says nothing to this.

            He did see Makoto’s fin. Or, at least, he definitely saw a fin several times in the last few weeks, and that can’t be a coincidence, it has to be Makoto.

            The salty air is not going to his head. Haru spent his whole childhood by the ocean. If anything, the salty air clears his head.

            He’s not going crazy. He’s waiting. He’s not giving up. There’s a difference.

            “You know you can’t look for him every day for the rest of your life, right, Haru?” Rin asks, his voice softer now, concerned, and this is worse.

            Haru knows this spiel. Is tired of it. Rin was surprisingly silent about Makoto for the first year after Makoto was freed, but he’s been becoming more vocal, gradually, and Haru misses the previous silence.

            “I thought you weren’t going to give me crap about Makoto,” Haru interrupts.

            “Well, you already gave me crap about Sousuke, so you’re due for some crap yourself, don’t you think?” Rin demands, his voice rising before it falls again.

            Haru thinks, not for the first time, that it can’t be healthy to have such extreme conflicting emotions come and go the way Rin’s do on a constant basis.

            “Why don’t you just wean yourself off? Go every other day, then twice a week, then once a week, then twice a month, then once a month, then – ”

            “I’m the one training you, remember? Why don’t you just concentrate on your own schedule,” Haru interrupts, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

            “It’s not healthy to be this obsessive, Haru.”

            “I just like to sail, Rin,” Haru replies tiredly, and they both know it’s a lie, but to Haru’s relief, Rin lets it slide.

            “So how’s Sousuke’s new job? What are his coworkers like?” Rin asks, after a small pause, and Haru shoves his hands in his pockets and decides it will be easiest to simply ignore Rin.

            After only three more steps, Rin is proving Haru wrong.

            “Oh, come on! Spare me your infamous silent treatment, Nanase.”

            “Rin, shut up.”

            “What about, you know… Is there anyone – Is he dating anyone?” Rin asks sheepishly, and Haru glances at him.

            Rin is rubbing the back of his neck and looking at Haru sideways.

            “What?” he demands. “Once he moves on, everything will be fine again!”

            “You’re an idiot,” Haru replies.

            “I am not! Look, I’m not belittling his feelings, I know they’re real, I get that. But he’s not going to, you know, be in love with me forever or whatever.”

            “That would be difficult,” Haru concedes, examining Rin, who glares at him.

            “Hilarious, Nanase. I just mean, I mean, he’ll find someone else. He’s not going to be alone for his whole life because of me, that would be – that would – ” Rin cuts himself off, looking blankly ahead of him for a few seconds, then sighs. “He’ll move on,” Rin insists, less vigorously, and Haru shrugs.

             “Probably,” Haru says, and he really does believe it.

            He thinks that one day, Sousuke will move on. And it won’t be today, and it won’t be tomorrow, and it won’t be the next day, and it might not be for a year, or even a year after that.

            But one day, Haru knows, Sousuke will be able to think about Rin, and it will not feel as though he is drowning.

            And maybe it’s not fair that Sousuke loves Rin, or that Rin doesn’t love Sousuke back.

            But they are no longer boys, and they are no longer foolish, and they can no longer trick themselves into thinking things will change just because they want them to.

            Sometimes, Haru realizes, waiting won’t lead to anything.

*

Haru is sitting at the edge of his boat, legs dangling over the side in a way he would not attempt had the waters not been so calm, when he sees the black dorsal fin of an orca poke out from the gently rippling surface of the sea.

            Haru watches this fin as it comes closer to him. The ocean is dark this morning, as it often is, and Haru cannot see below the surface, only above it, and so he watches this fin as it stops a foot from his boat only to turn.

            The fin begins circling the boat, and Haru watches it until he can see it no longer, so he stands, walks along the edge of his boat and follows its course, around the sailboat once, then twice. Haru realizes his own lips have turned up without his notice, and so he touches his smile warily as he watches the fin stop in front of his boat to turn again, and this time swim away from him.

            Haru does not hesitate. Goes to his sail and turns it as he has learned over the past months, pulls on its rope, shifts his boat so that it is moving after the fin.

            As his sailboat moves slowly with the light breeze, Haru looks around. There are a few boats out, most bigger than his, official boats. Maybe they are not looking for Makoto. Maybe they are just enjoying the morning sea, or maybe they belong to fishermen with bellowing laughs and life jackets too small for young boys.       

            Haru doesn’t know. He doesn’t care, only watches to make sure he is not followed, all the while keeping an eye on the fin until suddenly the fin is gone, and Haru is following nothing.

            He keeps going. The wind is too soft and his boat is too slow, and Haru does not think as he sheds his life jacket, as he kicks off his shoes and peels off his socks and stands at the edge of his sailboat with his toes curled around the edge.

            He crouches, closes his eyes.

            _Three, two, one – Go!_

            He dives. The water is cool and opens to him, spreads over his body in a second skin that muffles his pulse that had begun to race until it is steady again. His strokes are sure, certain, easy and even. He does not open his eyes, knows how to swim in a straight line with nothing to guide him.

            It is not a race, but even so, Haru is fast. The ocean bubbles at his ears. His breaths are perfectly timed with his strokes. He could swim for eternity and not tire, and this, Haru realizes, is what he has swam all his life for.

            This moment. This stretch of ocean, however far it will be. Haru is not worried. He knows he will make it.

*


	21. Chapter 21

When Haru feels something brushing his arm, he opens his eyes, picturing the long tentacles or tails or strings of jellyfish without even knowing if jellyfish are common in this ocean, without even knowing why jellyfish are on his mind.

            It is not a jellyfish, that touched his arm. It is Makoto, and Haru inhales a lungful of seawater.

            Haru coughs and breaks the surface, and there is a hand around his wrist and it is Makoto’s hand, and Haru knows this but he also feels as though he is drowning, and fights to tread water as he gasps.

            “Haru!”

            Haru’s chest is squeezing, but he knows despite the knives in his throat and chest and lungs that he is not drowning.

            He has inhaled seawater, but he will be fine. He knows this.

            He will be fine.

            “Haru, I’m sorry!”

            Haru blinks, keeps coughing and sees Makoto – _Makoto, Makoto!_ – in front of him, looking scattered and concerned, and Haru breathes deeply, trying to even out his breaths, trying to stop the burning in his throat and chest.

            _I’m fine._

            He does not try to speak. He knows he needs to catch his breath first, but this is hard to do because Makoto is in front of him, Makoto, Makoto, Haru cannot stop looking at him, the warm smile and the concern and the dripping dark of his hair.

            “Come with me,” Makoto says, and Haru does not argue, does not want to do anything else. Makoto’s hand is still around his wrist, and he pulls Haru, and Haru lets himself be pulled, is still staring at Makoto, the skin of his neck, the broad of his shoulders, the length of his arm. It has been over a year since Haru has seen Makoto. It has been so so long since Haru has seen Makoto. “I have to show you something,” Makoto says, and Haru nods, his breath caught though his chest still burns, and occasionally he coughs seawater back into the ocean.

            For a minute or so, Makoto pulls him slowly through the ocean, and Haru still cannot look anywhere but at Makoto, does not know where he is going and does not care to look ahead of him because Makoto is beside him, Makoto is right there.

            His chest burns but it is not the same as hurt. Haru knows hurt and does not feel it now. He feels only this burning, not only in his chest but spread across the surface of his skin.

            Makoto glances back at him, smiles lightly, warmly. “Haru. Can you go underwater now? It will be quicker that way.”

            Haru nods. He is breathing deeply, but he is fine now. He is so incredibly fine now.

            “If you hold onto my fin, I can swim us there quickly,” Makoto says.

            _Okay, Makoto. Is that really you, Makoto? Is that really you?_

            “It might be slippery,” Makoto says, letting go of Haru’s wrist and turning around, and Haru reaches out, hesitant, touches Makoto’s back and can hardly believe the solidity of him, trails his fingers down until the flesh of Makoto’s human torso breaks into the slippery smooth skin of his orca tail, thicker and sturdier under his fingertips.

            Makoto laughs lightly, and the sound is incredible.

            “Sorry, Haru. That tickles,” he mumbles, as Haru touches Makoto’s dorsal fin, wraps his fingers gently around the front of it.

            _Like this?_

            “You can hold on more tightly. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt. It’s like you’re holding my hand,” Makoto says, laughing again – incredible, incredible – so Haru tightens his fingers. “Ready?”

            _Yes. Yes, Makoto. Are you really here, Makoto? Are you really beside me?_

“Hold your breath, Haru,” Makoto says, and Haru takes a deep breath and holds it in his burning chest, and then Makoto is ducking under water, taking Haru along with him.

            Haru wants to keep his eyes open, to look at the way the muscles move under the skin of Makoto’s back, to not let Makoto out of his sight ever in his life again because here Makoto is, after so long, _here he is_ , but Makoto is fast, and Haru has to shut his eyes because the force of water against them is too much.

            Makoto speeds up, and Haru tightens his grip further, hoping Makoto will tell him if he is hurting him. Water streams hard and fast against Haru, the sides of his arms and his shoulders and his back and his legs outstretched behind him, above Makoto’s tail which sometimes nudges his knees or toes.

            None of it – the water surrounding him, streaming quickly past him, nor Makoto’s tail nudging his knees, nor Makoto’s fin beneath his tightening grip – feels real.

            _Like a dream – a daydream._

_Isn’t it frustrating, that you can trick yourself?_

            Haru almost opens his eyes. Almost lets go of Makoto’s fin, and just as his fingers are loosening, just as his chest is bursting with the breath he has held nearly a second too long, he feels Makoto tilt underneath him, and then they are breaking the surface of the water, and when Haru lets go of Makoto, he feels his hand caught by warm fingers.

            “This way, Haru. Are you okay? I held my breath too, so I’d know when you could not breathe anymore,” Makoto says, breathing hard and smiling his warm smile, and Haru blinks at him, water falling from his eyelashes and dripping onto his cheeks.

            “I’m okay,” he breathes.

            _Makoto? Tell me, is that really you? I waited for you, Makoto. I didn’t give up, not for a minute, not for a second._

            If it is a daydream, Haru doesn’t mind letting it continue for a while. Just long enough to catch his breath, that’s all.

            “Almost there,” Makoto says, pulling Haru along through the ocean again, and Haru does not take his eyes off the broad of Makoto’s shoulders until his toes drag on soft sand, and he takes a step in surprise.

            “Oh.”

            “It’s not a secret or anything. But when people look for a merman, they don’t look on land, I don’t think,” Makoto is saying, while Haru finally looks away from Makoto to where he expects the ocean to stretch out endlessly in front of them.

            Instead there is a shore interrupting the sea, covered in scraggly rocks carpeted in dark moss. It is an island, Haru can see this clearly because the sides of the sandy land are visible, as is the way the ocean surrounds it, and although Haru cannot quite see to the other side of it, he’s certain the island is very small.

            “There are several islands around here, but this one is my favorite. I’ve been exploring them, while you’ve learned to sail your boat.”

            Haru looks away from the island at Makoto, who smiles in what seems like a shy way at him.

            “I hope you do not mind that I have been watching you, Haru.”

            Haru almost trips, catches his balance, keeps walking in small steps through this sinking sand towards the island. He hardly feels his feet on the shore. He hardly feels the sand beneath them. He hardly feels anything but his heartbeat, thick in his chest like a solid, rampant thing. “I don’t mind,” he manages, and Makoto’s smile spreads.

            The sea level is now around Haru’s waist, then his thighs, then his shins, then barely over his feet. He is on the island, small waves lapping at his ankles as though attempting to pull him back in, and he turns to see that Makoto is a foot or so behind him, his arms locked straight in front of his upright torso, propping up the human part of his body.

            His tail is huge and visible behind him, the small tide attempting to cover it but unable to because of its size.

            “Can you survive out of water?” Haru asks, even though he is still not quite sure that Makoto is even there, is not some dream, not some wonderful, incredible, terrifying dream.

            Makoto had been walking forward with his hands on the sand, but at Haru’s question, he stops and tilts his head, a crease slipping between his eyebrows.

             “I do not know,” he replies, laughing. “Probably not,” he says.

            Haru’s breath was caught at Makoto’s laugh, and he is unable to reply, has no thoughts to reply with anyway.

            Haru takes a step back, stands in front of Makoto’s torso, looks at him for a moment, then starts to walk around him, the ocean playing at his feet.

            Makoto laughs again, this time more quietly.

            “What are you doing, Haru?” he asks softly, and Haru thinks he sounds a little nervous.

            _Seeing if you are only a dream, Makoto. Looking at you. Memorizing you. Remembering you._

            “Oh,” Makoto exhales, shaky and shy, while Haru’s chest squeezes in a sudden ache.

            He is missing Makoto, he realizes, even though Makoto is right there. _Right here. Are you really, Makoto?_

            Haru keeps walking on legs he cannot feel but for the shake of them, the unsteadiness of them. At Makoto’s tail, Haru reaches out and trails just the pads of his fingers along the length of the thick, black skin, and he is surprised at the feel of it under his fingertips, surprised that there is more than air there, that there is Makoto the Merman there, right against the very grooves of his fingerprints.

            _Is this okay, Makoto? Can I touch you, Makoto?_

            But Haru has no intentions to stop touching Makoto. To stop feeling the solidity of him, to stop making sure that Makoto is really there. He trails his fingers over the curve of Makoto’s dorsal fin, then back along his side, bends down on legs that hardly hold him up in the first place to feel the flat Y-shaped fan of the fins at the end of Makoto’s tail, and Haru knows they probably have a name, probably one supplied by the information pamphlets on Makoto the Merman, but Haru never paid attention to those anyway, it was so long ago anyway.

            He walks back around the other side of Makoto, trailing his fingers along the orca half of him until it meets the human half, and his fingers fall along Makoto’s back, up to Makoto’s shoulder, and then Haru is in front of him, and Makoto turns to look up at him.

            Haru has no words for his thoughts, but it does not matter, because Makoto can always untangle the things in Haru’s head that even Haru cannot understand.

            Makoto smiles, his cheeks darkened. “Is it okay, Haru?” he asks quietly, and Haru nods.

            _Okay? You’re here, Makoto. You’re here._

            “I thought – I thought we could come here. This could be our island. The shores are long, so I can lay on them when you need breaks from swimming. And we could – spend time together,” Makoto says, his speech fast and fractured, and Haru watches him in fascination, amazed at his voice, his familiar voice that Haru has known since he was just a boy, calling to him. “If you still want to. If you still…I know it’s been a long time. I know that. I had to make sure it was safe, I was watching the other boats too to see which ones were watching for me and which ones were just fishermen, I was learning their courses, which islands would be safest. I know it has been so long, but I thought, I thought if I still missed you, you might still miss me too, Haru,” Makoto mumbles, his voice small now.

            Haru cannot think of a thing to say. It still feels as though he has not quite managed to catch his breath.

            Makoto is here. _Makoto is here, right here, right here._

            “It is still a risk, I know that. But – I thought – I want to take this risk with you. I do not want – I do not want to never see you again, Haru. I do not know that I could spend any more time away from you. I would be bad at that, I think. Having to live without you.”

            Haru swallows. Nods.

            _Me too, Makoto. I cannot live without you either, Makoto. I do not want to, I do not want to, please do not make me do so ever again._

            “I know it is not normal, a human and a merman. I know I will still live in the ocean, and you will still live on land. But Haru,” Makoto says, looking away from Haru now, at the sea slipping back and forth across the sand, “I am so in love with you. In the human way and the merman way and every way that there is to love, and there is nothing I can do about that.”

            Haru stares at Makoto. Makoto who was behind a glass for so long, Makoto who was in a tank for so long, Makoto who was lost from him for so long, and now he is back, he is here, Haru does not know if it’s real, if any of it is real, but he does not care at all about reality.

            _I have never loved anything – not the ocean, not swimming, not anything – the way I have loved you. The way I love you now._

            Makoto smiles in the way that crinkles his eyes, and Haru bites his lip.

             “Can I kiss you, Haru?” Makoto asks, as if he has to ask, as if it is a question.

            Haru looks away from him, in the far distance where the ocean meets the sky, where Haru had pointed his sails every day for the past year and a half. “You don’t have to ask something like that,” he mumbles, finding his voice, forcing it out.

            Of course Makoto can kiss him, of course he can.

            “Sorry, Haru,” Makoto says, and when Haru turns to look at Makoto again, he sees that Makoto is leaning forward.

            Haru leans down so Makoto can kiss him before Makoto has the nerve to ask to do so again.

            Makoto’s lips taste of the ocean, salty and warm, and Haru wants this ocean to fill his lungs, to make it hard to breathe, to burn his chest.

            He wants to be so full of Makoto that he must fight to survive, pulse scattered, heart too large, and a rushing through his head, a lightheadedness that nearly tows him over, that nearly drowns him, but not quite.

            Not quite.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one more chapter to go! thanks everyone for sticking with me so far :D


	22. Chapter 22

“Happy birthday!” Nagisa shouts, and Haru holds the phone away from his ear.

            “You said it was an emergency,” Haru replies, because that was what the string of fifteen texts from Nagisa insisted after he called Haru three times, and Haru ignored the calls.

            “It is an emergency! An emergency celebration!” Nagisa shouts happily, and Haru is about to hang up when he hears Rei’s voice and realizes he must have been put on speaker.

            “I told him not to call you while you were with Makoto, but he found where I hid his phone. I apologize, Haru.”

            Haru sighs and glances at Makoto, who smiles lazily at him.

            They are lying on their island that has been their island for several weeks now, long enough for Haru to have explored every inch of it, for him to know the directions and where exactly to swim and for how long to keep swimming if he wants to get there without Makoto meeting him at his sailboat and taking him.

            Though he usually waits for Makoto to find his sailboat, to circle it with his dorsal fin out of water so that Haru knows to dive from his ship and plunge into the ocean where a hand will find his, will pull him along, faster than he could ever swim on his own so that he must close his eyes, must tighten his grip around the slippery smoothness of Makoto’s fin.

            Now, Makoto lies beside Haru, their torsos on the dry parts of the beach, their bottom halves where the sea can still reach them, lapping gently at their waists.

            They had been taking a break from kissing to look at the sky, when Nagisa’s stream of emergency calls and texts came in, and Makoto insisted Haru call Nagisa when his phone kept lighting up. Haru assured Makoto that Nagisa’s emergency would be nonsense, but in the end the merman won, and Haru called Nagisa grudgingly.

            “Is Makoto there? Can we speak to him?” Nagisa demands, and Makoto nods because even though Nagisa is not on speaker, he shouts loudly enough into the phone that it is quite easy to hear him from a foot away.

            Haru sighs and puts his phone on speaker, placing it on the sand right above his and Makoto’s shoulders.

            He lies back down on his back and resumes staring up at the sky – foggy and sporting thick clouds today – while Makoto speaks.           

            “Hello, Nagisa.”

            “Makoto! You better remember our deal. We have to share Haru, especially since it’s his birthday, so you have to make sure he’s back on his boat and on his way over to Rin and Ai and Momo’s place by five o’ clock, or I’ll have to come out there and teach you a thing or two!”

            Makoto laughs. “I remember,” he agrees. “I will have Haru on his way by five, I promise.”

            Haru turns to give Makoto a swift glare, and Makoto smiles warmly back in a way that makes it somewhat difficult to glare at him, and Haru is left to turn back to the sky and glare at it instead.

            “I don’t know why we couldn’t have his party on your secret island, since it isn’t even a secret and we’ve all been there countless times, and I happen to know it’s perfect for parties, I can just tell these types of things,” Nagisa grumbles.

            Nagisa, as usual, is exaggerating. He has not been on the island countless times, he’s been here four times, and Haru regretted agreeing to let his friends come each time.

            He has no intentions of ever doing so again, and only gives in when Makoto asks. For some reason, Makoto is a fan of Haru’s friends, though Haru cannot fathom why.

            He supposes they are all right, as far as friends go.

            “Nagisa, will you stop bothering them?” Rei insists.

            “I’m not bothering them! Am I bothering you? It’s not like they were having sex – Oh my god, were you having sex? How do you do that?” Nagisa shouts, and Haru reaches out to hang up on Rei's sputtered apologies for his fiance’s behavior.

            Thinking about Rei and Nagisa, Haru is reminded of something Nagisa said to him the day before.

            “Nagisa wants his wedding on the island,” he says, before Makoto can chastise him for hanging up on his friends, which Haru knew Makoto was about to do from his disapproving frown.          

            Makoto brightens instantly. “Really?”

            “You want that?” Haru asks, no longer lying on his back, but on his side with his elbow digging into the sand.

            Makoto copies his pose, facing him with his head tilted. “I would like to go to their wedding,” he says slowly. “That is a human custom. It’s very fascinating.”

            Haru shrugs. “You won’t get the real custom from Nagisa and Rei anyway. They didn’t even go out first, they were just friends and then Rei proposed, that’s not normal. I doubt their wedding will be any more normal either.”

            “Go out? That means to date?”

            “Normal human custom is to date, then to get engaged, then to get married. Well, that’s changed, people don’t always do that anymore, that’s just the tradition,” Haru explains, not knowing why they’re even talking about this.

            He understands that Makoto is still fascinated by human culture – somehow not turned off by it even though he was made into an exhibition for profit for months because of it – but Haru thinks it’s more important to discuss how Nagisa wants to get married on the island when it is not _his_ island, it is Makoto and Haru’s island, and if anyone should be getting married there, it’s him and Makoto, really.

            “Do you want to do that?” Makoto asks.

            “What?” Haru asks, confused.

            “The normal human custom. Date, engaged, married.”

            Haru looks at Makoto’s careful gaze, then lower, along his torso and waist and down to his tail, huge and still surprising, interrupting the timid attempts of the sea to climb onto their shore.

            He looks back up at Makoto, shrugs. _I don’t think I like normal human customs._

            Makoto smiles, hums. “Hm. What if that’s what I want?” he asks, his smile tilted.

            Haru watches Makoto warily.

            “I don’t think it’d be so bad to be married to you,” Makoto muses.

            “You don’t even know what marriage means.”

            “Yes, I do!” Makoto protests, looking offended.

            “What does it mean, then?” Haru asks, somewhat exasperated. He’s tired of talking, wants to resume listening to Makoto point out shapes in the clouds, as if they are just boys and foolish with nothing but time on their hands to waste together.

            “Marriage means eternal love, and you wear a ring on your finger. This one,” Makoto says, pointing to the ring finger of his right hand.

            “It’s the other hand,” Haru corrects. “And you can have eternal love without marriage, it’s just for show, and it doesn’t mean eternal love. People get divorced all the time.”

            “That word – Divorced – What does that mean?” Makoto asks.

            Haru thinks for a moment, considers Makoto’s soft eyelashes, his familiar lips, his hair that is lighter now, drying. “It’s…the opposite of married. You separate from the person you married.” Haru looks away from Makoto as he shifts again to lie on his back. He watches the dark clouds move slowly across the sky until Makoto’s face, peering over his, blocks his view.

            “That sounds terrible,” Makoto says.

            Haru shrugs against the sand.

            “Let’s not get divorced,” Makoto says, and Haru looks away from him.

            “We’re not married, we can’t get divorced.”

            “Good,” Makoto replies, and when Haru peeks at him again, Makoto is smiling his warm smile that crinkles his eyes.      

            Haru waits to be kissed, as certainly they have talked enough for now, but instead of doing so, Makoto is speaking again.

            “Happy birthday, Haru,” he says, and Haru narrows his eyes.

            “You said that already,” he points out.

            “The first time I saw you after that storm when we were just boys was on your birthday,” Makoto says thoughtfully, and Haru does not say anything because he already knew that.

            He does not remember it all that clearly. There was the glass, and there was Makoto the Merman behind it, and there was Nagisa, and the phone, and Rei’s dollar, and Makoto’s smile, and the darkness of the Makoto the Merman exhibit, the cast of cool shadow from Makoto’s tank.

            “I didn’t get to see you on your last birthday. I didn’t like that. Let’s see each other on all of your birthdays from now on, Haru,” Makoto says, and Haru blinks at him, then leans up on his elbows to kiss Makoto before Makoto can say anything more.

            Sometimes, he thinks, Makoto says things that make his heart swell much too big, and one day, he worries, Makoto will say something, or smile that smile of his one time too many, and Haru’s chest will burst.

            There is a crack of thunder from what seems to be all around them before rain starts to fall, but Haru does not pull away from Makoto, and Makoto does not pull away from Haru.

            Haru has always loved water. It makes no difference if that water comes from the sea or the sky.

            _Okay, Makoto. Let’s see each other on all of my birthdays. Let’s see each other on all of the days in between._

            There is a flash over Haru’s closed eyelids, and for a moment, he worries it is a camera flash, and he flinches before he remembers that they are alone, that it is only lightning, it is only another storm, like the one in which Makoto first saved his life, first called out to him – _Come on, Haru!_

            At his flinch, Makoto pulls away from him, and Haru opens his eyes to see that Makoto looks concerned, in his heavy-lidded way.

            “Are you okay, Haru?” he asks, and Haru licks his lips, watches the rain fall onto Makoto above him, darkening his hair to its familiar shade.

            Drops of rain that have caught in Makoto’s hair trickle down the soft strands of it, pause for a moment before falling onto Haru’s skin.

            _Are you okay, Haru?_

            _I’m perfect._

 **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you liked it guys, thanks for reading! :D


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